


A Fangirl's Dream (vol.2): Meeting Again in London

by Lady_Angel_Fanwriter



Series: A Fangirl's Dream [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Richard Armitage - Fandom
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love, Romance, Romanticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8357572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter/pseuds/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter
Summary: Two and a half months: so much time need Nives and Richard to meet again, after Venice where they discovered to love each other, while he is in another continent to act in a movie. Ten endless weeks of separation which weight on their hearts. But finally the craved moment to meet again arrives, during the world première of The Battle of the Five Armies in London...[Please note that English is not my first language, so please be patient with my errors; any corrections suggested by English speaking persons are welcome]





	1. Chapter I: Friday, October 3rd, 2014 and following weeks

 

**Chapter I: Friday, October 3rd, 2014 and following weeks**

“Yesterday I resumed my belly dance classes”, Nives told Richard. It was 9 p.m. – 8 p.m. in London – and they were talking by Skype.

The following day, Richard would fly to Los Angeles, where a couple of days later he would begin to shoot a new movie, entitled * _The Sleepwalker*_ , in which he played the role of a psychologist treating a woman – his old acquaintance who had always been in love with him – suffering of somnambulism. Out of script needs, he had to grow again a beard, but this time it was less thick than the one he had as he played John Proctor.

“Really?”, he asked, remembering that in London she told him she was a dancer, “You know, I never got to see a belly dance. I don’t care to see another woman. I want to see * _you*_ …”

“I cannot compare myself to a pro, not even by far”, Nives protested, but he shook his head determinedly:

“This is unimportant, I want to see you and no other… Haven’t you got a video to send me?”

“Unfortunately no”, she regretted, “Well, * _I’ve got*_ some videos, but none in digital format which I could send you by e-mail”, she thought better, “Perhaps I can convert one, but it’ll need some time. Meanwhile, I can send you come portraits a photographer shot me a couple of months ago…”

“Yes, thank you!”, answered Richard, eager to see her in some fabulous odalisque costume.

They chatted for a long while; faithful to his word, Richard had sent to Nives each day a message with the short, but intense sentence * _I love you*_. The hour varied much, but he didn’t miss a single day, except when they spoke by phone or Skype, like now, because in this case he told her directly, and it happened at least once or twice a week.

When they said goodbye, exchanging kisses on their fingertips placed on the screen surface, Nives looked for the file with the best photos her trusted photographer Tony shot her – twenty out of over one-hundred – and sent them to Richard by e-mail, then she went to bed. While she was relaxing reading * _The Hobbit*_ – for the fifteenth time – obviously in English, her cell trilled announcing the arrival of a text message. Smiling because she already imagined who it was, she took it and opened the message.

_*You want me dead!!! You’re simply gorgeous… and terribly desirable. I miss you more than ever. I love you.*_

Nives closed her eyes and laid the phone over her heart. Could it indeed be true that this man, so romantic, sweet and sexy, was really hers? That their relationship was real, and not some kind of hallucination of hers? It still seemed to her unconceivable, and it would continue to do so for a long time…

 _*Me too, I love you*_ , she answered, * _and no, I don’t want you dead, but alive… VERY MUCH  alive!!! I miss you terribly, too…*_

That night, she dreamed about performing for Richard a both elegant and provocative belly dance. He looked at her adoringly, making some silly faces and bringing his hands on his chest to show he was having palpitations. This was putting to the test Nives’ concentration on the choreography, hence to take revenge she placed herself in front of him and, looking at him teasingly, she danced in a very sensual way. After some moments he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, evidently flushed by her show; satisfied, she stuck out her tongue at him, laughing, and moved back to end the performance, while Richard was fanning himself with his handkerchief, gazing at her like he wanted to eat her.

When she finished, she approached him and he stood up, taking her hand and making her twirl around to admire her once more, then he pulled her into his arms…

 

**Monday, October 6 th, 2014**

 

Nives read Richard’s last tweet and her heart skipped a beat. * _Day 1 in Sleepwalker_ _@elliotlester88 @ahnaoreilly the leading lady is beautiful, talented and smart. It’ll be a joyful October.*_ Jealousy gripped her, because he was describing another woman as * _beautiful*_ – even if she had to admit that, objectively, Ahna O’Reilly * _was*_ beautiful – and she felt disappointed because he described as * _joyful*_ a period during which they were staying apart; but because she trusted her man completely – she thought it still incredible being able to call Richard that way – she decided not to tell him anything, when that evening they would talk by Skype. Besides, at 2 o’clock, that is 6 a.m. in Los Angeles, she had received Richard’s usual daily message, which said * _Watched from the hills, LA by night is spectacular. I miss it badly not being able to share this sight with you. I love you_.* If suddenly his interest in her had decreased, he wouldn’t send her such a tender message as he had barely awakened… or so Nives tried to tell herself during all the time left to the connection through Skype.   

At 8.30 p.m., that is 12.30 in Los Angeles, during Richard’s lunchbreak, they met face to face via monitor.

“Hi, my sweet Italian girl”, he immediately greeted her. He was calling her like this for some time now.

“Hi, my handsome British boy”, she reciprocated, struggling to put up a serene expression; but it was extremely difficult to deceive an actor of Richard’s level, used to read the tiniest facial expressions in order to reproduce them while acting. Sure enough, he frowned and pierced her with his gaze.

“What’s wrong, Nives?”, he asked her in a peremptory tone. For a moment, she thought about denying there was something wrong, but she knew that, should she do it, he would feel vexed and worried.

“It’s nothing…”, she tried to minimize, “It’s only that… well, your today’s tweet got me a bit unnerved…”

He remained silent for a long moment, pondering; then he called himself an imbecile: he knew how much Nives felt insecure about his sentiments for her, at the point she asked him to renew his love declaration every day, and he just publicly declared that another woman was beautiful and he would spend with her a happy time? * _Bravo Richard, you’re really a genius*_ , he reprimanded himself.

“Ahna is truly a beautiful woman”, he admitted at length – he couldn’t deny he thought it, “but in my eyes, you are infinitely more attractive than her. I wish I could demonstrate it to you concretely, I wish I could take you in my arms and kiss you and make love to you until I convince you”, he touched her cheek, regretting it was only an image through a monitor, “I love only you, I’d want you to believe me…”, he concluded in a mortified tone.

Nives felt ashamed for having even only thought to need to be jealous. She put her fingers where she saw his on the screen.

“I believe you. Rationally * _I know*_ you love me… it’s emotionally that I continue to be madly scared to lose you… Forgive me, love, I don’t do it on purpose… I can’t help it.”

“I know”, Richard reassured her, “* _You_ * forgive me, please, because I didn’t think that calling * _beautiful*_ another woman could upset you…”

“There’s nothing to forgive”, she interrupted him, “Come on, Ahna actually * _is*_ a gorgeous woman and you are * _not*_ blind. I have only to learn to trust more… * _us*_.”

“With time, I’ll be able to convince you”, Richard asserted categorically, “It’s a promise.”

In that moment, Nives wished she owned a teleportation device like in Star Trek, in order to rush to him and smother him with kisses; instead, she had to be content just by sending them to him through the monitor. 

 

**Wednesday, October 15 th, 2014**

 

It was 8.30 p.m. and Nives was chatting with Richard via Skype. He was on lunchbreak and after eating a sandwich he had called his * _sweet Italian girl*._

“That director of yours, Elliott something…”, said Nives.

“Lester”, he suggested Richard with his adorable smirk.

“That’s him”, she confirmed, “Tell him he’s a big jerk.”

“And why so?”, marvelled the actor.

“He posted on Twitter three pictures of yours, but all dark and rather blurred”, Nives explained, “He seems to enjoy keeping us poor fangirls in suspense. My friends of the Facebook group are beginning to be pissed off, I warn you!”, she concluded jokingly.

He laughed softly.

“Good heavens, you never know… What can I do to placate their anger?”

Nives thought about it for a moment.

“Let’s see… Could you take a selfie and post it on Twitter?”, she asked him.

“I ought to ask to Elliott. You know, it’s just a tactic to create interest in the movie…”

“I supposed so, don’t worry. It doesn’t matter, if you can’t, forget about it…”

They talked a bit longer, then Richard had to cut the connection because he must go back on set.

“Good night, my love”, he said to her, caressing her face on the screen, “Sweet dreams. And remember that I love you.”

“I love you, too”, she answered back, thrilled like every time she heard him say so.

 

**Thursday, October 16 th, 2014**

 

Nives watched Richard’s picture on Twitter, a selfie he shot that very morning while he was going to work. The image was askew and not perfectly focalised, yet in spite of it he was handsome and his extraordinarily clear blue eyes seemed to pierce through the screen.  

_*OK you win!*_ , said the caption, * _Day 9, Dowtown LA*_.

 _*How the heck can he be so hot even in a selfie shot in a hurry, I really can’t make it*_ , she thought, enchanted. Only she knew what the caption meant: Richard reported her complaint to his director, who evidently gave him permission to publish this image, thus making happy the thousands of fans of the Armitage Army.

On Twitter, Nives was obviously a follower of Richard, since the first day she learnt he had signed in; but not vice versa: this would be noticed and all would wonder who she was and what relationship she had with the famous actor, arising a hornet’s nest of speculations, conjectures and gossip which both wanted to avoid. Therefore, not being able to comment publicly in a particular way, Nives added the star, showing her preference – a function similar to the * _like*_ on Facebook – and tweeted an answer, hilarious but neutral: * _Your eyes should be declared a Lethal Weapon and you should have a gun permit!*_

Then she sent him a text message:

_*Thanks for the picture on Twitter… Did I already mention that I adore your eyes? Then read the answer I sent you…*_

**********

When some hours later Richard took a break from shooting, he found Nives’ message and smiled, then he followed her suggestion and went to see his Twitter account. Reading Nives’ reply, he burst into laughter; he didn’t’ answer to her – following his politics never to reply – reserving himself to do so privately.

He stayed on a good mood all the rest of the afternoon.

 

**Tuesday, October 21 st, 2014**

 

That day was their first * _monthversary*_ and Richard was particularly impatient to hear Nives via Skype: he had sent to her a bunch of flowers through Interflora service and he wanted to see her reaction. Not knowing what her favourite flowers were and not wanting to ask her to avoid any suspicion, he chose on catalogue a classic bouquet of red roses with decorative green. By the picture, it was really beautiful and he hoped it actually was. He had added a card saying simply * _A month today. I love you. Richard_.*

As Nives’ webcam was activated, he saw a close up of the bunch, with the card leaning against the glass vase in which the roses had been put. He smiled.

“So, do you like my flowers?”, he asked. The vase was moved away and Nives’ face appeared; her expression was eloquent.

“Oh Richard, they’re * _splendid*_ …”, she answered in a voice thick with emotion, “I… have no words…”

“A * _thank you*_ is more than enough”, he murmured, touched by her evidently deep emotion.

Nives shook her head:

“No, it’s not at all enough”, she contradicted him, “You have no idea…”, she stopped because a lump in her throat hindered her voice; she gulped it down furiously, “I don’t even remember the last time I received flowers with a similar meaning…”, she swallowed again, “You’d deserve me coming there and eating you up with kisses”, she concluded, then she found again her wits and gazed at him in a naughty way, “and… * _not_ _only*_ with kisses”, she added, meaningfully.

Richard smiled, amused: he adored her mischievous gags.

“Anyway, I prepared a gift for you, too”, Nives revealed him, “I send it to you now by e-mail. But maybe it’ll take some time: it’s a rather ponderous file.”

“Oh? And what is it?”

“I don’t tell you, I don’t want to spoil your surprise…”

By her facial expression, Richard sensed it was something he would surely appreciate. A picture of her, naked? No, she wouldn’t speak of a * _ponderous*_ file. And anyway, she wasn’t that type of woman… or maybe she was? He didn’t know yet * _how much*_ she could be cheeky… he hoped she was * _very_ _much*_ ; but to learn this, they had to build up their intimacy, and this could happen only in time.

The conveniently zipped file required less time than Nives had foreseen, and after about five minutes the sending was completed.

“Look into your mailbox”, she invited Richard. He took his tablet and accessed his mailbox, where he found Nives’ message. He downloaded the attachment and opened it; Nives saw his eyes widening.

Fascinated, Richard watched Nives, wearing one of her charming odalisque costumes, doing a complex belly dance on the stage of some event; she began with a solo, moving elegantly her veil, then half a dozen of other dancers joined her and all together they performed an intriguing choreography, which maintained Nives on the front and centre, as the group leader, this was expected because she was visibly the most expert of all, even if the others weren’t inept at all. The performance ended with Nives doing a particularly difficult figure, while her companions got behind her in a scenic arrangement. The following thundering applause didn’t leave any doubt about the appreciation level of the audience.

Hearing the clapping, Nives guessed that the clip was over and explained:

“That was the year’s end recital in June.”      

Her father did the filming – her parents had always been her first and biggest fans, be it for dancing or writing or any other venture she undertook – on video tape; thanks to an appropriate program, she had been able to convert it from analogical to digital format and chose it as a gift for the occasion, thinking that Richard would appreciate it.

She wasn’t wrong.

“You’re very good”, the actor commented, his eyes still glued on the tablet while watching her and the others elegantly bowing to the audience; his breath was rather short and he felt a certain tension in his groin, “Very good and very beautiful”, he reiterated, turning to look at her through the monitor with his incredibly clear blue eyes.

“Thank you”, she answered, blushing slightly because of the admiration and the desire she read in his gaze.

“Except that now it’ll be more difficult than ever to endure the weeks still needed to meet again”, he stated, “I crave for you… I’m not speaking only about your gorgeous body, but about * _you*_ …”

Nives felt breathless. She was aware she wasn’t objectively * _gorgeous*_ at all, neither face nor body; he considering her so and repeating it frequently thrilled her immensely.

“I crave for you, too…”, she whispered, caressing his face through the screen. Heavens only knew how much it would be hard, awaiting for December to come…

 

**Saturday, November 15 th, 2014**

 

Other three weeks went by.

Nives had sent to Richard a file with the translation of a fan fiction of hers about * _Star Trek*_ , inspired by an episode of that science fiction saga which had impressed her much. Being English, Richard was more about * _Dr Who*_ , but he knew and appreciated the American saga, too. Lorraine, her French-Venetian friend who accompanied her to London and who was almost mother language with the Albion tongue, had corrected it and then Nives had added some pictures.

As soon as he received it, Richard had read it in one shot; he liked it very much, both for plot and for writing ability, and now as they were talking via Skype he complimented her, genuinely admired, making her very happy.

“You could become a professional writer”, he told her, earnestly. She shook her head:

“Nah, I don’t like the editorial milieu: too much competitiveness and too much nepotism. There’s rubbish passing for masterpieces and selling millions of copies just because their authors found a * _mogul*_ , and other things which instead are really good rotting on the shelves because the author didn’t find an enough important sponsor …”

Richard nodded: the star system wasn’t much different. He had accepted only a few compromises, and as a result he had had to wait over twenty years to gain global fame; if he would have accepted more – especially granting sexual favours – he would have arrived at the top much earlier. Therefore he understood completely Nives’ reservations.

He changed subject.

“They told us the dates of the various premières”, he said, “They’ll give the official announcement early this evening, but I tell you already that Italy isn’t included. I’m very sorry…”

Nives sighed, disappointed.

“I admit I hoped greatly for it”, she stated in a low voice, “not much for me, as I’ll come to one not too far away, but rather for my all my friends who are fans of yours who won’t be able to do it and counted on an Italian première.”

“I’m really very sorry”, the actor repeated, sincerely, “The world première will be on Monday, December 1st in London, then on the 4th there will be Paris, followed by Rio de Janeiro where I’ll go alone, and finally Los Angeles on the 8th.”

“Good heavens, a true tour de force!”, cried Nives, dismayed, “Europe, South America and North America in one week…”

“Not much different than the other times”, Richard pointed out, addressing her a reassuring smile, “What do you prefer… London or Paris?”

“Where will you stay longer?”, she asked him.

He pondered about it.

“We could meet in London on Friday night, so we’ll have Saturday and Sunday to spend together undisturbed and Monday to attend the première”, he answered, “While in Paris we’d have a day less, because I could arrive on Tuesday, then the première will be on Thursday and I’ll fly to Rio immediately the day after.”

“Surely better London, then”, Nives decided, “I’ll look immediately for a flight arriving Friday night.”

“Let me know, so I’ll book the hotel directly after your confirmation.” 

Nives found a flight from Venice at 16.30 on Friday, November 28th with arrival at Gatwick at 17.45; the return flight would be on Tuesday evening. This meant she had to ask for two and a half days off – Friday afternoon, Monday and Tuesday – with a notice of less than two weeks. She didn’t like it much, even if she had already notified she would need some days off between the beginning and the middle of December, but she always had qualms because she knew that her absence, not having colleagues to substitute her, meant always some inconvenience to the firm; but after all, it was also true she asked days off very rarely, and besides, this was a very calm, almost sleepy period of the year, for their business sector.

********

Monday morning she asked and obtained her days off, finding not only her boss Marisa’s understanding, but also her support, having confided to her that in Venice she ended up with Cris becoming her boyfriend. She still called him that way to avoid revealing his true identity until the moment they would come out and disclose their relationship to the world.

During lunch break she booked the flights and sent an e-mail to Richard with the details; arriving at home in the evening she found his answer: he had booked a double room at the Corinthia Hotel, a prestigious five-star near the well-known Trafalgar Square. Because she was his guest, Richard was crystal clear about the fact he would pay for it and he wouldn’t accept a refusal. Nives realized that, should she protest, she would insult him, hence she didn’t breathe a word.  

Suddenly she realized she would spend her birthday with Richard and felt on cloud nine: she couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate it… and well, as for the friends she usually mustered for this purpose, she would celebrate with them the week after. She therefore sent the invitations e-mails, telling them about an unforeseen, undelayable engagement as a reason to postpone the event.

Richard, too, realized that the next Saturday would be his * _sweet Italian girl*’_ s birthday and was happy, because he would be able to give her personally the gift he already chose for her; he had seen it at the Swarovski shop in Downtown Los Angeles and immediately bought it. He would surprise her in a very nice way, he was sure…  

 

**Thursday, November 27 th, 2014**

 

“Tomorrow we’ll finally be together again”, Nives sighed, thrilled. Richard gazed at her and beamed his irresistible, allusive smirk:

“I can’t wait to hold you… to kiss you, caress you and make love to you for hours and hours…”, he declared in an intimate tone.

She trembled: Richard’s physical absence had been increasingly difficult to bear, while weeks went by.

She closed her eyes briefly.

“I’m counting the hours left to meet you”, she revealed in an undertone, full of such a need – not only a physical one – that he felt a lump in his throat.

“Me too, sweetheart…”, he whispered, “You know, last night I dreamt of you…”

It wasn’t the first time he told her; anyway, she dreamt about him, too, even if not so often as she would like.

“Really?”, she smiled.

“Yeah. And let’s say that this morning I had to… hum… change my boxers…”, he went on, making his * _adorkable_ * face.

She blinked, not understanding his statement; then comprehension enlightened her, leaving her open mouthed: Richard had an orgasm while dreaming of her?!

“Oh!”, she breathed, blushing furiously, half embarrassed, half flattered.

“Exactly”, he confirmed, clearing his throat, he too, vaguely embarrassed, “It didn’t happen to me since I was seventeen…”

“We’ll make up tomorrow night”, Nives assured him with a smile full of promises. He answered watching her with that typical sexy expression of his which resonated in her femininity.

“I count on it”, he muttered; his magnificent baritone voice, in addition to his looking at her askance, made her gasp involuntarily. She blushed again and covered her mouth with her hand. For goodness’ sake, she was flaring up with just a gaze and two words… 

“You’re a scoundrel”, she grumbled, “You’re getting me… agitated!”

To her surprise, he made again his * _adorkable_ * face.

“Really?”

“Are you kidding me?!”, she cried, genuinely surprised, “Love, I miss you terribly, you tell me you intend to spend hours making love with me, then you tell me you had an erotic dream about me and you watch me like you want to eat me and… and you think I won’t burn like a torch?”

She translated the latter sentence right out of Italian, not knowing how it would be in English; but he realized perfectly what she meant. And while she was speaking, Richard felt hot like burning himself.

“Hum… you mean you would spend * _for good_ * those three days permanently in bed with me…?”

“Of course… well, with some breaks to eat, and obviously to attend the première”, Nives giggled. He couldn’t help but grin while answering:

“Oh well, yep, at the première we must go imperatively, or else I risk a penalty for non observance of the contract agreements… and eating will be necessary to regain the calories we’ll spend in… horizontal activities.”  

She arched her eyebrows:

“Who said they’ll be only * _horizontal_ *…?”, she provoked him.

Richard felt even hotter. This woman would be his death, he thought, thrilled.

He cleared his throat, trying to think about something else.

“One more thing…”, he said, “You’re aware, I suppose, that when medias will see us together, the news will spread around the world instantly and there will be plenty of gossip…”

Nives hadn’t thought about it yet, not being used to reason in terms to being together a famous person like Richard and consequently to be herself exposed to the spotlights of celebrity.

“Yeah, you’re right…”, she mumbled, making a face.

“I think that, at this point, it’d be better to announce publicly our relationship, if you agree. In this way, we’ll avoid unpleasant rumours or wrong assumptions”, the actor suggested.

Nives pondered swiftly and agreed:

“You’re right, better declaring exactly how things are and nip in the bud every useless gossip. I only hope your Armitage Army won’t hate me too much…”, she added, worried: she knew how much demanding Richard’s fans were, for having been one of them, and she felt completely unapt to survive their exam.

“If I hear just one word against you…”, Richard began in a menacing tone.

“…you won’t say anything”, she interrupted him quickly, “Criticism is unavoidable like the raising and the setting of the sun: take it out on it isn’t worth it”, she concluded, trying to sound convinced; but she wasn’t at all, because she didn’t feel at all ready to confront with the negative judgement which would surely come, out of jealousy or of envy or just of plain meanness.

“As for myself, I can endure it”, he muttered, not convinced, “but as for you, I won’t be able not feeling pissed off…”

Nives smiled sweetly at him and caressed his cheek through the monitor.

“You’re my fearless knight in a shining armour, ready to defend me taking up the cudgels, and because of this I love you even more, if that would be possible; but I don’t want you to argue with your fandom because of me. Leave it alone: too much people talk just because they have a mouth, as we say in Italian.”

Richard didn’t need an explanation of the saying, being it sufficiently clear.

“You’re perfectly right about this”, he admitted, “but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to restrain myself, when it comes to you… As I already said, for myself I can endure anything, but for you, I can’t.”

His protectiveness was reassuring, thought Nives, touched.

“I’m a big girl, I can manage it”, she said, “but it’s nice to know that, should I need you, you’ll be there.”

“Yes, Nives”, Richard confirmed forcefully, “I’ll be _*always*_ there for you.”

 


	2. Chapter II: Thursday, November 27th, 2014

 

Chapter II: Thursday, November 27th, 2014

 

Finally time had come when she would meet Richard again. The weather was gloomy and the forecast told about rain in the late evening, but in the next days it was optimistic. Obviously Nives and all the attendants at the première, both stars and fans, hoped fervently it wouldn’t rain, so that the red carpet parade could take place easily. There was already a number of people who literally camped outside the Odeon Cinema at Leicester Square, awaiting to see their favourite actors and actresses on Monday; this seemed somehow incredible to Richard, but Nives assured him she could completely understand those fans, even if she wouldn’t arrive to do like them. Maybe.  
She exited from the office at noon and went straight to the airport, where she wanted to lunch before boarding. In her suitcase she had packed her Nerwen the Green costume, an elegant outfit for the evening – Richard informed her that that same evening they would dine with some of his colleagues of the cast and crew who already had arrived in London – and a casual one for the day – assuming she would actually wear it, as they planned to hardly leave their room – but especially three sets of chic underwear, two of them brand new, which she bought expressly to wear and then have Richard take them off… the thought had made her lips curl in a *very* naughty smile all day long, appearing on her face at the most unexpected moments.  
On the highway, Nives tried to stay within the speed limits, even if the journey seemed endless, not differently as it had been in September, when she went to pick up Richard. Finally, about one hour later, she arrived at Marco Polo airport in Tessera, parked and went to the entrance with her trolley. It was still too early to check in, which she anyway already did online to gain time, adding also the necessary sum for the priority boarding. She went to the nearest bar, where she ordered a sandwich with mozzarella and tomato and a fruit juice, which she ate sitting at a table; then she waited for the check in to open trying to relax with some mental yoga exercise, but it didn’t work much, as she resignedly had to ascertain. Finally she was able to deliver her baggage and went to the gate the hostess had pointed her out. As expected, she boarded among the first ones and took place in her seat on the corridor, which she preferred because it allowed more room to move; when the aircraft began to taxi and then took off, she felt her heart flutter: in two hours she would land and at the latest one hour later she could finally be again in Richard’s arms…  
At the baggage claim she was lucky enough to be one of the first to receive her suitcase, then she hastened to the train station, where she found the Gatwick Express – the direct train between the airport and Victoria Station which departs each fifteen minutes – which she booked online, and half an hour later she had arrived at the most important train station in London, where she caught a taxi.  
Finally, she was at the Corinthia; she paid the driver and entered the hotel. The hall was huge, luxurious, a Regency style triumph with white and black marble, very different from the cosy, romantic hotel in Venice; but as for her, it could be even a hovel and she wouldn’t care, if only she could be with Richard.  
As they had agreed, she called him on her mobile.  
“I’m here”, she announced.  
“Fine!”, Richard’s voice seemed thrilled, like she was anyway herself, “How’s the trip?”  
“Without a hitch, even if it seemed never ending, to me…”  
“Good… I’m waiting for you. Please call again when you come upstairs. My room number is 518.”  
“Okay. See you in a few minutes…”  
Nives hung up a little disappointed: she had hoped he would come downstairs to meet her. But then she realized he couldn’t: it was better if they didn’t let anyone see them together in the same hotel. In Venice they had been two anonymous tourists, but here he was the star of the event – maybe more than his colleagues, because of the popularity he had achieved, which had obscured even the protagonist’s one, Martin Freeman – and therefore he was far more exposed, and until they wanted to keep their relationship private, he had to be prudent. For the same reason, Richard had booked two rooms, even if they foresaw to sleep in only one. The few they would sleep, thought Nives, quivering in anticipation: better if she hurried to check in.  
At the reception desk, she found a young and gorgeous woman with short, dark hair, with a heavy makeup and an elegant burgundy suit.  
“My name’s Nives Nardini”, she said, taking off her quilted jacket and laying it on her trolley, “There’s a booking in my name.”  
“I check immediately”, the other one replied with a pleasant smile, typing the data on her keyboard, “Yes, here it is…”, Nives noticed she was surprised, “Oh, I see it was booked by Mr. Armitage”, the receptionist pointed out, gazing perplexedly at her. Nives did her best to maintain her nonchalance and just nodded, not giving any information, which she didn’t anyway owe to her.  
Realizing she wouldn’t get further information from her, the concierge went back on routine:  
“Please fill up this form. Can you meanwhile give me an ID?”  
Nives handed her her ID card and filled up the form with the required data; she got back her document, together with the badge to her room. She noticed the number was 516: clearly, Richard asked them to give her a room next to his.  
“The lift is down there on the left”, the concierge informed her, “Have a nice stay in our hotel.”  
“Thanks, goodbye”, Nives replied, taking her trolley and moving. As agreed, she called Richard again:  
“I’m on my way upstairs.”  
“I’m waiting for you…”  
The lift was very large and well lit, but it was its swiftness the quality Nives appreciated the best. As she arrived at the fifth floor, she followed the indications turning left, and short afterwards she saw Richard awaiting for her on the threshold. Again he had no beard, because he ended his cinematographic obligation two days before the beginning of the tour for the premières of *The Battle of the Five Armies*.  
They beamed at the same time, thrilled, gazing into each other’s eyes; as soon as she entered, the actor closed the door and reached out to brush her shoulder.  
“Welcome”, he whispered. Nives let go of her trolley and dumped her purse to throw her arms around his neck.  
“Thank you”, she barely managed to answer before Richard, taking her in his arms, seized her mouth in a passionate, almost feverish kiss; she reciprocated it with equal fervour.  
“Good heavens, how much I missed you…”, Richard breathed in her ear, before kissing her again, deeply, brushing her tongue with his in a slow, sensual caress, “I adore your perfume…”, he went on, moving down to kiss her neck. Of course, Nives wore the vanilla and white musk perfume, which she had used just minutes before arriving at the hotel.  
“I missed you, too…”, she said in an undertone, then she exhaled a broken sigh because he was caressing a very sensitive spot behind her earlobe with his lips.  
“I missed everything of you”, Richard whispered in her ear; his warm breath made her stomach flutter, “your kisses, your caresses, your arms around me, your body against mine…”, he drew a necklace of kisses around her neck, where he felt the crazy pulse of the little vein at the base of her throat, “Your eyes… your voice… Skype is good, but live it’s something entirely different…”  
Nives agreed completely; she felt like melting in his arms and would have freed herself on the spot of all her clothes to make love with him, madly, but she was around since the early morning and felt the need to clean up. After another searing kiss, with difficulty she pulled away from Richard.  
“Give me ten minutes”, she begged him, taking a step back. Richard understood: he, too, had a long shower, in preparation for the meeting.  
“I’ll read something, meanwhile”, he said. He wasn’t sure he would be able to concentrate in reading, but he would try; he must take off his mind of the provocative thought of Nives naked under the shower, or he wouldn’t resist.  
He took her trolley and laid it on the suitcase holder, so she could easily get what she needed. She took out her slippers, putting them on in place of her ankle boots, and grabbing her beauty case, she made a beeline to the bathroom. The room was large enough and lit by a slightly orange light, warm like candlelight, counterbalancing the coldness of the marble whiteness of tiles and fixture; next to the shower stall, enclosed by Plexiglas walls, two white bathrobes were hanging, looking very soft.  
Nives twisted her hair on top of her head, fastening it with a clip, then she opened the warm water and unclothed quickly. Doing it, she noticed that the shower box was *considerably* large…  
She felt suddenly very hot: in all her life, she never did something like this she was now thinking of, partly out of shyness – her husband had been her first man – partly out of lack of fantasy. But with Richard… with Richard she felt *different*, cheeky, bold.  
The water was now hot and filling the stall with steam. She jumped inside, noticing approvingly that the floor was milled to avoid slipping, and quickly washed herself with the shower gel provided by the hotel, then she stuck her head out of the stall and called:  
“Richard….!”  
Hearing her call, the actor threw away the magazine he was trying in vain to read and stood up. A moment later, he was on the threshold and saw her looking at him, only her head out of the steam-fogged stall.  
“Mind to join me…?”, she asked him, her eyes shining and a mischievous smile on her lips. Richard froze a second, dazed, then he answered her smile with one of his typical ones, small but not less heartfelt: goodness, Nives was really *very* naughty… and he loved it madly.  
“Sure…”, he declared in such a voice she felt her heart up her throat.  
He hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it carelessly away, and freed himself from the other clothing. In half a minute, he was naked and Nives could admire him in all his statuesque virile beauty. Her throat went dry: never ever, only three months ago, would she think she could see him like this – like mommy made him – *live*…  
A moment later, Richard entered the box and took her in his arms. She had not even the time to reciprocate his embrace and he was already devouring her mouth with a ravenous kiss. His hands caressed her back, bottom to top, then vice versa, passing over the soft rear curves to finally press her firmly against his body. Nives replied rubbing herself against his solid body, wringing out of him a low groan of pleasure.

  
“Nives…!”, he panted, tearing off of her lips, “I can’t wait much longer…”  
“Nor do I…”, she gasped.  
Richard bent down, kissing her neck; then his caressing lips went even lower, towards her breasts, until they closed around a stiff nipple. Nives gave off a breathless cry, while little shocks of pleasure expanded from there to her nether parts, quivering with desire.  
Sensing her need, Richard moved a hand, passing it over her throbbing belly, and brushed the junction of her thighs. Instinctively, Nives lifted one leg and wrapped it around his; he took the silent invitation and with his fingertips caressed the tender folds of her intimacy. Both were soaked by the water pouring down on them, hence it was impossible for him to establish her readiness, but her gasping moan left not much doubt. Impulsively, he knelt down before her and laid his mouth on her womanly flower, licking it avidly and wringing out of her other moans.  
The sensation took all her breath away; her knees gave way and she clung to his wide shoulders to prevent falling.  
“Richard…”, she gasped. Pleasure grew at a vertiginous rate; for a moment, Nives thought to let herself go, to relish those exciting ministrations to the sweet end… but then the desire to reciprocate, to be *she* the one who gave pleasure to him, became compelling: she wanted to do with Richard things she never had before with anyone else, because he was, simply, *special*.  
“Stop… stop…”, she begged him, trying to retreat. Richard interrupted his delicious banquet, quite disappointed and vaguely worried: maybe she didn’t enjoy it…? But seeing her flushed cheeks, her lips disclosed on her erratic breathe, her eyes glazed in pleasure, he realized the reason she stopped him was another.  
Nives took him by the shoulders, inviting him to stand; he did it, moving away just enough not to receive full in his face the water gush coming from the showerhead. Looking into his eyes, unaware her own passion-heated gaze was sending him orbiting, she crushed herself on him and slowly slid down, caressing his body with hers. The hard masculine tower passed between her breasts while she kneeled in front of him; realizing what she was about to do, Richard widened slightly his eyes out of expectation, while his breath caught in his throat.  
Staring into his eyes, Nives closed her mouth around his male sceptre. Richard felt his legs giving way and reached out to seek support on the Plexiglas wall behind him; a deep, breathless groan escaped from his chest.  
Hearing it, Nives felt her inner muscles contracting, excited by his excitation like she never felt before in all her life; she increased her care and caressed his whole length, until she brushed the base.  
Richard threw his head back, stunned, uttering another long groan. Heavens, Nives was *killing* him! It wasn’t certainly the first time someone did to him what she was doing to him, but he never felt so overwhelmed, because it wasn’t only his body, but also his heart and soul: everything in him was involved in the moment, because it was Nives, the woman of his life, who was making love to him… Then he opened wide his eyes, gasping: he was almost on the verge of the no return point, only some moments more and he would explode…  
This was precisely Nives’ intention; hearing him wheezing breathlessly, she realized she was on the right path and got ready to use more vigour.  
But she didn’t take *him* into account.  
Unaware he was considering the same things as Nives earlier, Richard thought it would be absolutely fantastic to benefit entirely of the treatment she was giving him, but that, buried in her body, with her clenching all around him in the paroxysm of pleasure, would be thousand times better.  
“Stop”, he gasped, “Please, Nives…”  
She had no intention to stop, but surprise made her hesitate and he took his advantage to escape; like she did with him earlier, he had her standing, then he engulfed her in his embrace.  
Uncertain, Nives watched him; his cerulean eyes blazed in such a desire, it took her breath away.  
“You’re sensational, baby”, he murmured in a voice barely audible over the pounding of the water, “but I want you… now…”  
Despite the passion devouring him, he waited for an affirmative nod from her before proceeding: he was no man to impose himself by force over a woman, not even if his life would depend on it.  
Nives never felt so much desired, but at the same time so much respected; speechless out of emotion, she just nodded. Then he seized her by her hips, not differently as he did in Venice the night they made love for the first time, and lifted her; automatically, Nives surrounded his waist with her legs, rubbing the centre of her body against his. Richard laid her against the tiled wall and moved, positioning himself correctly; finally, looking into her eyes, he entered her, firmly but slowly, ever worried to hurt her if he was too impetuous. A small cry, expressing both pleasure and relief, escaped her throat, reassuring him.  
“I love you”, he said. His voice, an octave lower because of desire, made warm shudders ripple through her body.  
“Me too, I love you”, she managed to utter, than Richard began to move and she wasn’t able to think coherently anymore; she let herself go on the wave of sensations and lost herself entirely in him.  
Perceiving her complete yielding to him, Richard felt a lump in his throat and realized that never before sex had been so emotionally involving, for him. He had been in love, in the past, once he even lived with a woman, but never ever he did feel so much *captured*. The physical ecstasy, even if remaining very relevant, somehow fell on the back compared to the sentimental ecstasy.  
He moved carefully, looking for the best way to give her all the pleasure he was able to give her; he wanted to be the best for her, but not for himself, out of personal pride, but because she simply deserved the best.  
Nives had never made love in a shower, nor in that position; she was amazed of herself, of her own audacity: even if she wasn’t particularly shy, about sex, she hadn’t been particularly brash either. However, with Richard she felt totally at ease, and therefore much more uninhibited. In this position, she was entirely at his mercy, but she trusted him completely and knew he would never neglect her.  
Pleasure began to spread in their wombs, increasing rapidly in intensity. Richard’s movements became more determined, their breaths more laboured; then Nives felt a shudder ripple through her depths, a shudder which came again stronger, then more stronger, until it exploded in the blinding flash of such an ineffable climax that she tossed her head back, her eyes shut, and gave off a cry of astounded pleasure.  
Feeling the violent tremors of her feminine depths, Richard tried strenuously to control himself some other moment, but he was overwhelmed and hurled to the peak; he closed his eyes, irresistibly, and his cry echoed Nives’.  
Their bodies enjoyed each other for some more long moments, making their souls tremble along with them and obscuring their minds. Then, slowly, the wave of pleasure submerging them withdrew, leaving them shaken both physically and emotionally, to the point both felt their eyes sting with moved tears.  
“It… it has never been like this before, for me”, Nives stuttered; Richard looked at her, perplexed, and she tried to explain, “I don’t mean *physically*…”  
Realizing at once what she meant, he held her tighter and kissed her with a surprising tenderness, if compared to the explosiveness of the embrace they just shared.  
“Nor for me, love”, he whispered, “Nor for me…”  
Nives felt a sudden lump in her throat: she had never received such sweet words, after the lovemaking; she was overwhelmed by the feeling and felt on the verge of crying. She clutched at Richard convulsively, laying her head on his shoulder; perceiving her emotion, he reciprocated her grasp and kissed her hair, miraculously still dry in spite of their *activity*.  
They stayed there, holding each other tight, kissing and caressing tenderly, for a number of minutes, before they decided to separate; they dried up, then wrapped themselves in the bathrobes and went back to the bedroom.  
Richard watched the clock.  
“Damn…”, he grumbled, “We’re late for dinner… I agreed to meet the other ones at half past seven, but it’s *already* half past seven…”  
Nives wasn’t scared.  
“Contrary to most women, I am very quick to get prepared”, she told him, “Call one of them and tell him we’ll be there in fifteen minutes…”, then she looked at him with a sudden mischievous air, “Something told me, we wouldn’t stick just on *horizontal* activities…”  
Richard needed some moments before remembering their Skype conversation of the night before, then he burst into a loud laughter. Holy mackerel, Nives was really *tremendous*! And he adored her for this, too…  
*******  
Exiting their room, Richard looked at Nives appreciatively: she wore a green miniskirt which highlighted her beautiful slim legs. Noticing his passionate gaze, Nives felt her emotions stir: for the Goddess’ sake, she thought, would she ever get used to his scorching glances? She was pretty sure she never would.  
What she didn’t know, was that *her* scorching glances, too, made Richard’s blood boil: she was too humble to realize it.  
When they arrived in the hall, they quickly reached the bar, where they were awaited by director Peter Jackson, his wife Fran Walsh, scriptwriter Philippa Boyens and actors Lee Pace, Martin Freeman and Ian McKellen, respectively the Elven king Thranduil, the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins and the Wizard Gandalf the Grey. If they guessed the reason of their delay, they very discreetly kept it for themselves.  
Nives felt stunned and her stomach was knotted out of excitement: she had always wanted to meet the persons who brought to life her favourite world, the *Tolkienverse* as she called it, therefore seeing them standing in front of her was something incredible.  
As first one, Richard introduced her to the director, the one who had the major merit for having obstinately pursued the goal to make a cinematographic saga out of a literary one, not letting the many refusals discourage him, which he received before finding in the New Line Cinema someone willing to risk the required, considerable economical investment.  
“Mr Jackson, you surely heard this already many times, but at the cost to sound banal, I want to thank you, in my name but also in that of all Italian fans, for having transposed Tolkien’s masterpiece to cinema”, Nives said, highly thrilled. The New Zealander director had actually received similar thanks some hundreds of times already, but the evident emotion of this young dark haired woman stroke him. He warmly shook hands with her.  
“Just Peter, please”, he invited her, “It’s me, really, the one who has to thank you and all the fans, for making my work the success it is.”  
Nives beamed at him an even warmer smile, won by his openness and humility. She shook hands also with Fran and Philippa, then Richard introduced her to sir Ian McKellen alias Gandalf the Grey. Nives produced a curtsy, pretending to stretch out her miniskirt like a long court gown.  
“Nerwen the Green, at your service”, she said with a broad smile. The old actor, with great humour, played along with her and reciprocated the bow.  
“Gandalf the Grey, at yours”, he replied, then he took her hand and kissed it gallantly, “I’m glad to learn that in the Order of the Wizards there is such a beautiful woman. No wonder Thorin Oakenshield fell into your spell, my dear.”  
Nives blushed: it was obvious that all the bystanders knew perfectly what kind of relationship she and the British actor shared. In addition to this, there was the excitement to meet the one who performed Gandalf, her Tolkienian absolute favourite character: not without reason her alter ego was an Istar, his colleague and good friend.  
“Thank you, sir Ian”, she almost stuttered.  
Lee Pace didn’t wait to be introduced and came forth.  
“Nice to meet you, finally”, he said, taking her hand, “Richard told me very much about you.”

  
“I hope you didn’t get bored!”, Nives laughed, finding the American actor instinctively very likeable. She shook hands with him.  
“Hardly”, Lee reassured her smiling, “You two are really a gorgeous couple”, he added, speaking under his breath so that potential indiscreet ears could not hear.  
Martin Freeman sneaked in at Lee’s side.  
“Hey, back off, you beanpole of an Elven king”, he joked, hinting to Lee’s height which overtook even Richard’s, even if just for a few inches; he produced a bow similar to the one Nives had addressed Ian McKellen, “Bilbo Baggins, at your service, Lady Nerwen.”  
Nives laughed again, with a certain amount of relief: she had been worried Freeman would be unpleasant, because of his questionable habit to make that rude gesture for which she had sent Richard to reprimand him, but seemingly he, too, was an amiable person.  
Meanwhile Jackson had called for the barman.  
“Champagne?”, he asked the two who arrived latest, lifting his glass. Nives nodded:  
“Yes, thanks”, she answered.  
Richard, too, made an affirmative gesture.  
They drank, chatting amicably among them; in a moment when Richard was in conversation with McKellen, Lee addressed Nives:  
“I’m really glad Richard finally found the woman of his dreams.”  
“I hope I am, really”, Nives murmured, thrilled. Lee smiled:  
“Judging from the way he talks about you, you are, believe me. And if you love him as much as he loves you, then you’re destined to be together forever.”  
She swallowed the lump suddenly arisen in her throat, like each time she thought about the future. After the bad experience with her husband – who took an oath in front of God and the men to love her *forever*, but he broke it – the fear that things could fall apart at any moment never abandoned her, especially with Richard, given the objective difficulties due to the enormous difference between them about milieu, social status, cultural background, not to mention the geographic distance separating them.  
“I hope it wholeheartedly”, she whispered. This sentence, but especially the tone in which she had uttered it, had the American actor realizing two things: first, that she really loved Richard – the man, not the actor, the public person – and second, that she was frightened, and this told him she must have had a great love sorrow. This made her even more well accepted to him. And made him wish to meet a woman like her.  
“Any chance you have a sister to introduce to me?”, he asked in an undertone, half joking, half not. His question surprised Nives, then she smiled and shook her head, regretfully:  
“No, I’m sorry… I’m an only child.”  
“O that’s too bad”, Lee declared, smiling back at her; they heard Richard’s deep laughter and the American actor glanced at him.  
“It’s a pleasure to hear him laugh so heartily”, he commented, “and it’s all because of you… I’ve never seen him in such a good mood like now he’s with you”, he turned again to her and his smile broadened, “Bet we won’t see you till the première… Rich told me you want to… hum, be on your own for all the free time you’ll have.”  
Nives appreciated his finesse in expressing the idea. She smiled at him with true fondness and a hint of naughtiness:  
“Well, sometimes we’ll take a break… we’ll have to sustain ourselves and recover the energies we’ll spend…”  
He burst into laughter, drawing Richard’s attention, who was glad to see his friend familiarize with Nives. He came near them:  
“So, what are you two confabulating about?”, he interrogated them with a fake Thorin-frown.  
“I was bad-mouthing you”, Lee promptly replied, “telling Nives all those times you looked bad or worse on set…”  
Richard rolled his eyes:  
“And you’d be my friend? At this point, I hope I haven’t got enemies!”  
They laughed, then they moved with the other ones to the restaurant, where the maître showed them to their table. Nives found herself sitting between Richard and Lee, while in front of her was Peter Jackson. A waitress took them the menus, which all began to examine except Nives.  
“What do you suggest, Richard?”, she asked. He beamed at her, remembering Windsor and Venice, where each trusted the other one’s suggestions.  
“Let me see… This meat pie with steamed vegetables and chips or mashed potatoes, it’s really typical English food.”  
“Yeah, I remember eating some back in September”, Nives nodded, reading the ingredients, “Oh, there’s more than one type… well, this time I’ll have chicken and mushrooms instead of beef. With mashed potatoes”, she added, “And as a drink, a pint of light beer seems good to me.”  
Lee heard her; he set down the menu and declared:  
“I trust Rich, too… Meat pie like Nives, but with beef and chips.”  
“Then I recommend a dark beer”, she said, winking to Richard, “A *porter* beer, that is…”  
Richard grinned, but Lee blinked, having no clue about what they were talking.  
“One of my characters’ name’s Porter”, the British actor explained.  
“My favourite”, Nives added. Lee lighted up:  
“O yes, the special force soldier, right? So you like a man in uniform, Nives?”  
“Indeed… and if the man is Richard, I go crazy…”  
“Rich, I suggest you to get yourself an uniform and see what happens…”, said the tall performer of Thranduil, winking at his friend.  
“I’ll consider it”, the latter assured him. Nives stared at them with a funny clouded over expression:  
“Be careful, you two, don’t you dare to try and plot behind my back…”  
“I don’t even think about it!”, Lee cried, “Rich told me you’re kung fu black belt…”  
She burst into a short laughter:  
“What an exaggeration! I practised for seven years, but I didn’t achieve the black belt…”  
Meanwhile the others, too, had decided what they would have for dinner; when a waiter in a dark suit came to take their orders, Freeman confused things, but finally all was clarified and the waiter left.  
“I almost made a mess”, commented Bilbo’s performer, gazing the other with a sorry look on his face.  
“You *always* make a mess”, Lee reproached him with his Thranduil frown, “you bungler of a Hobbit…”  
“Hey, shut up, you vain Elf…”  
They laughed all together at the jests of these two.  
“Where they this way all the time, on set?”, Nives inquired, looking at Richard.  
“Even worse”, the actor grinned, “Sometimes I had to leave or I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, when I had particularly difficult scenes…”  
Dinner went on in a pleasant chatter. Sir Ian asked Nives what she had seen of London until now and she answered that at the moment, out of lack of time, she did only take a look from the outside of the most iconic palaces and monuments, like the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, Westminster and others.  
“The only building I actually was in, was the Old Vic, to see Richard in *The Crucible*”, she concluded with a laugh.  
When they finished their dinner, the Italian woman took off her purse a pen and a bounded and illustrated copy of *The Hobbit*, which she received as a collective birthday gift from her friends the year before.  
“If it doesn’t bother you, may I ask for an autograph from all of you?”, she asked, glancing around the table. Everyone nodded, accepting; Nives smiled at Lee and opened the book at the page showing Thranduil:  
“Would you please sign here?”  
“Of course!”  
She did the same with the other ones, Bilbo, Gandalf and Thorin; then she had Jackson, Fran and Philippa sign on the frontispiece.  
“Thank you so much, you all”, she said in the end, feeling over the moon, “Monday I will ambush the other ones, too”, she concluded wittily.  
Lee asked her:  
“So, are you ready for the première?”  
“No”, she answered, surprising him, “I’m not ready to see Thorin die”, she explained in a low voice, “*I know* it’s just acting and fiction, but you have to know that, through Richard, I am madly in love with Thorin, and when he’ll die… well, I’ll cry a river of tears”, she concluded making a broken face, “Looking at it sitting side by side with Richard will help me greatly to bear it, but I’m afraid I’ll crush his hand…”, she added with a final gag.  
Lee smiles sympathetically: he understood Nives’ sentiments, he too sometimes was so engrossed in a movie or in a book that, when his favourite character died, he felt broken.  
“If you’re so into Thorin, you’d hate Thranduil…”, he considered quietly. Nives curled her lips in an embarrassed gesture:  
“A little”, she admitted, “but I admire greatly your performance…”  
“Thanks! Your compliment has double value, considering your loathing for my character.”  
Nives smiled: Lee, too, like Richard, was a star who didn’t show off; she already realized it, now she knew it for certain and was glad.  
“It’s only for the moment”, she declared, and at his perplexed gaze she explained, “The narration isn’t yet finished and Thranduil could surprise me… now couldn’t he?”  
The American actor beamed:  
“He could, indeed… who knows…”  
They chatted a little longer, then around 10 o’clock Jackson stood up to excuse himself, as did his wife Fran.  
“Good, guys”, he said, “I remind you the press conference on Monday at 3.00 p.m. in the conference room of the hotel, if you don’t know where it is just ask at the reception. All right?”  
“Yes, of course, understood”, answered they all together. McKellen, too, got to his feet:  
“Better going to bed, my old bones are complaining”, he commented humorously, then he bowed slightly to Nives, “It was very nice to meet you my dear; sleep well.”  
“Good night, Sir Ian”, Nives said, standing to shake hands with him, “It was an immense pleasure for me to meet you tonight.”  
“My pleasure, Lady Nerwen”, Gandalf’s performer declared, smiling at her and kissing again her hand as he did earlier.  
Freeman, too, said goodnight; Richard leant toward her and asked:  
“Shall we go, too?”  
“Yeah, better we do”, she answered, nodding, “I’m a bit tired… too much emotion, today”, she confessed, meaning both having met Richard again and then his colleagues, too. Not to speak about the passionate embrace they shared under the shower…  
“I’ll come with you”, Lee declared, standing up, “Just to my floor, I vow!”, he added, laughing, “I expect to see you only on Monday”, he concluded, winking. Nives blushed, but Richard just smiled one of his characteristic little smiles.  
They went upstairs together; in the lift, Richard took Nives’ hand, caressing slowly her palm with his index before he interlaced their fingers. She felt her blood boil and took a sharp intake of breath: for all the gods of Olympus and Valhalla, he needed just a trifle to set her to fire… ha, but she would take vengeance, o yes she would…  
Lee stopped at the fourth floor and said goodbye with one of his dazzling smiles, which competed with Richard’s, then they went on and arrived to their room. They passed in front of the one which should have been Nives’ and Richard commented mischievously:  
“I wonder what the waitress will think, tomorrow morning, when she’ll find your room intact…”  
“She’ll wonder where on Earth I have spent the night”, Nives giggled, amused, then she was struck by a thought and turned earnest again, “but then she’ll wonder why in your room, where you’re signed alone, there are women’s things… it isn’t difficult to make the maths: maybe it’s better I move my things…”  
“No”, Richard said, opening the door, “We just hang on the knob the plaque *do not disturb*, so no one will come in to do our room”, he concluded grinning while the got in.  
“The whole day, tomorrow and even the day after tomorrow?”, Nives chuckled.  
“I thought we agreed on this earlier…”, said Richard, glancing her sideways with those amazing blue eyes which each time made her heart race, “Or did you change your mind?”, he inquired, rising an eyebrow like Spock did in Star Trek.  
“Absolutely not”, she assured him.  
Richard shook off his jacket and untied his necktie; she took her elegant nightgown in green silk and lace, which she bought specifically for this occasion – rolled up so it wasn’t recognizable – and went to the bathroom, where she removed her makeup and let down her hair. Normally she braided her hair to sleep, but for her revenge tonight, she wanted it loose.  
When she was ready, she returned to the bedroom; Richard had turned out the lights, leaving only the suffused, rosy lighting behind the headboard, creating a romantic atmosphere. He was lying face down on the bed – gloriously naked. Nives almost choked: in these conditions, her revenge would backfire on her. Not that she would mind. O no, not at all…  
She got near to the bed; Richard turned his head toward her and caught his breath: Nives was a gorgeous vision, in that romantic nightgown. He had had the intention to make love again with her, but only if she wanted it, too; now he knew that, if Nives wasn’t willing, she had to go to sleep in the other room, because he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her.  
He stretched his arm toward her and whispered:  
“Come here…”

  
Under his hot gaze, Nives almost stumbled on her own feet. Ha, was it so…? Now she had *two* things to take revenge on…  
She sat on the bed, took his hand and laid it on her breasts. Happily surprised, Richard caressed them through the thin fabric, then he raised a little, turned and drew her to him; she encircled his neck with her arms and took his mouth in a passionate kiss.  
Feeling her tongue caressing his lips, Richard parted them promptly to welcome it and reciprocated, pressing her body against his own. The way Nives responded to his solicitations intoxicated him.  
She pulled her lips away from his, only to set kisses on his neck and throat, caressing his chest, brushing his nipples with her fingertips and making him sigh. Then her lips descended, taking the place of her fingers, while her hands became more audacious and went further down, along his worked-out abdomen, even further, until they rested on his erection; Richard started and gave off a delighted cry.  
“You interrupted what I was doing, earlier”, Nives said in a low, hoarse voice, “You must know that I *hate* being interrupted”, she moved further down, “therefore now you’ll undergo an adequate punishment…”, and, saying so, she enclosed his manhood in her lips. Richard started even harder than before, breathless, and his eyes widened. He lowered his gaze to her, who was looking at him in turn with those enchanting brown eyes… eyes which could be so sweet, like those of a fawn, but now they were burning of an incandescent passion.  
Meeting her lover’s blue gaze, clouded by pleasure, for a moment Nives felt embarrassed: never in all her life had she been so cheeky; but before her unease became too much to bear, Richard closed his eyes with a soft groan and murmured:  
“You’re incredible, baby…”  
Encouraged, Nives went on inflicting him the *castigation* she had chosen for him, until on the high point he grabbed the sheets in his fists and arched his back, uttering a long, deep, reverberating groan expressing all the pleasure he was enjoying; then he fell back again on the mattress, his breath broken, his head spinning.  
Seeing him collapsing on the bed, his face looking ecstatic, Nives smiled satisfied and thrilled for having been able to give him so much pleasure.  
She left him and climbed his body until she laid at his side. He closed his arms around her and hold her tight, his breath still laboured.  
“I’m walking in Elysium”, he whispered, making her giggle, pleased; he put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look into her eyes; his gaze was still fogged, but it burned with a new flame, “You know, don't you, that *you too* interrupted me, huh?”  
“I don’t…”, Nives started to protest, but he shut her mouth with a kiss.  
“Yes you did”, he murmured on her lips, “right on the best moment, while I was savouring the best dessert in the world… better even than chocolate ice-cream…”  
Nives gave a short laugh, but she stopped suddenly when he moved away the spaghetti-strings of her nightgown, unveiling her breasts to caress them with his hands and lips; a devastating fire hit her immediately, making her gasp.  
Richard moved down her body while he slipped off her garment, letting it fall next to the bed; he tarried nibbling at her abdomen, right above the hem of her lacy knickers, making her quiver in the wait of what she knew would come. With exasperating slowness, he took off her panties, but when she was finally naked, unable to wait any longer, he slipped between her knees and laid his lips immediately on her secret place.  
Nives started and uttered a breathless cry feeling him tasting her intimately, greedily, like he did earlier in the shower; the sensation was overwhelming, irresistible, and she couldn’t stop moaning, louder and louder, thrashing her head here and there, her breath ragged, her body trembling; when the orgasm exploded in her womb, she burst into a cry of pure elation:  
“Richaaaaard!!!”  
Hearing her shouting his name made him skip a heartbeat, in a much deeper thrill than feeling her spasms at the top of her pleasure. He drove her through her climax until it placated; then he laid by her side, watching charmed her satiated expression. He had expected to feel proud, the proudness of a man capable to satisfy his woman completely; yes, he felt this, too, but it was another, the emotion who was prevailing: he felt humble. Humble in front of the grandness of the sentiment he felt for Nives, and even more in front of the knowledge that she reciprocated it. He would never be enough grateful to destiny, which had made him meet this wonderful woman – the love of his life – in such an unexpected way.  
He took her into his arms and kissed her, passionately. Then he covered both with the blanket and they fell asleep, tightly embraced.


	3. Chapter III: Saturday, November 29th, 2014

 

Chapter III: Saturday, November 29th, 2014

In the morning, Nives woke up to find Richard once more already awake and keeping her into his embrace.  
“Good morning”, he whispered in a tender voce, “And happy birthday.”  
She smiled at him, still sleepy.  
“Thank you… and good morning to you”, she answered, “You know, I’d get used to this…”  
“To what?”  
“To wake up in your arms.”  
She rubbed her nose against the side of his neck, then she kissed the dimple at the base of his throat. He grinned:  
“O, me too, I’d get used to wake up with you in my arms…”  
He bent his head and sweetly kissed her lips.  
“What time is it?”, Nives asked, stretching. He half-closed his eyes, relishing in the sensation of her body rubbing against his.  
“Almost 8 o’clock”, he answered distractedly.  
Nives’ eyes widened: she didn’t even remember the last time she slept so long, and never waking up not even once during the night.  
“You’re better than sleeping-pills”, she muttered.  
“Huh?”, he said, confused.  
“Never mind… early morning delirium”, she diverted him, not willing to worry him with her insomnia problems, “Breakfast?”  
He realized she wasn’t telling him something, but thought it couldn’t be that important if she wasn’t saying anything about it; or so he hoped, at any rate. Nonetheless, his innate discretion prevented him to insist.  
“I call room service…”, he nodded, then he chuckled, “Here too, like in Venice, they’ll wonder why one person orders breakfast for two…”  
Nives laughed and stood up; she was still naked, but she didn’t bother to dress: Richard had seen everything of her already, and it was nonsense to play modest. She picked up her nightgown and knickers and headed to the bathroom, where she quickly freshened up; meanwhile he called for room service.  
When Nives got back, wearing again her romantic nightgown, she found Richard sitting on the bed, the upper sheet covering modestly the lower part of his body; seeing her, he tapped lightly on the mattress at his side, inviting her to sit at his side and, when she complied, he offered her a small dark blue box, elegantly decorated with the famous silvery brand of Swarovski’s swan.  
“The moment I saw it, I thought it was the perfect gift for you”, he said in a low voice.  
Nives felt her throat tighten and wasn’t able to reply immediately; with shaking hands, she took the box and opened it: in a bed of white satin laid two crystal turtle-doves, gazing at each other, a small heart hanging between their beaks. She felt tears welling up in her eyes: if the heart-shaped *murrine* and the flowers had been romantic gifts, this one was it far more, and certainly not only for the monetary value. A small sob escaped her lips: she had been alone for so much time, that the desire to finally meet the man of her life had become unbearable, so much that she had taken shelter in dreams, in fantasies, in her writings. When she had *met* Richard as Thorin, she lost her head to the point she committed the folly to go to London just to see him once in a lifetime… and now they were together. Looking at the two enamoured turtle-doves through the veil of tears obscuring her sight, Nives thought that all the years of loneliness which had torn apart her heart had been worth, because now they found a compensation greater than anything she could imagine.

  
Catching her moved tears, Richard felt a lump in his throat; he took her in his arms and held her tight, caressing her hair tenderly. He, too, had often felt embittered by his solitude, therefore he understood perfectly Nives’ feelings. He kissed her brow and hair, repeatedly, awaiting for her weeping to cease.  
Finally the tears stopped flowing and Nives wiped her eyes, straightening her back to gaze into her man’s eyes.  
“What a wonderful gift…”, she breathed, still uncertain about her voice, “I have no words, really… except… thank you and… I love you immensely…”  
He cupped her face and used his thumbs to dry off her still damp cheeks.  
“I love you too, Nives”, he whispered, before kissing her in such a sweet way she literally melted.  
“Richard…”, she began, but another long kiss cut her short. When he finally released her, Nives’ eyes shone like stars, her doubts momentarily forgotten.  
“I’ll put the doves on the dresser in my room”, she told him, “exactly in front of the bed, so it’ll be the first thing I see awakening, and the last one falling asleep.”  
“Not a picture of me, huh?”, he provoked her.  
“That I have on my night stand”, she laughed.  
“So do I: I keep there your picture in that fabulous odalisque costume”, Richard revealed her, kissing her again, “Better I get presentable”, he muttered then, standing up, even he would prefer to do something totally different, “You don’t want the room attendant seeing me naked.”  
“Let alone if it’s a female!”, Nives laughed, admiring his superb body while he headed to the bathroom, “If like me she’s a fan of yours, you risk her having a heart attack!”  
He half turned his head and she saw his *adorkable* face she found irresistible and which each time made her crave to eat him up with kisses.  
“Oh, come on…”, she heard him mutter, before disappearing beyond the threshold. Nives shook her head chuckling: she would never understand his incapability to realize how much he was attractive and sexy. Especially with no clothes on.  
She heard him using the shower, then some minutes later calling her. She entered the bathroom and found him in a bathrobe, his face covered with shaving cream; he held a straight razor in his hand.  
“For you, baby”, he murmured, beginning to shave. Nives’ eyes widened: he remembered what she told him in Venice, that she found sexy a man shaving with a straight razor; he promised to get one… and he did!  
“You’re totally crazy…”, she managed to breathe; Richard gave her a sly gaze, going on to shave, undismayed, “Stop looking at me like that or I jump you!”, she threatened him. All she got was making him smile in a triumphant way, “O you’re *impossible*!”, she complained, laughing and exiting quickly the room. Should she stay, she wouldn’t hold herself any longer.  
Richard returned just in time to hear someone knocking on the door; Nives hided in the bathroom and came out only after the room attendant had left. Fortunately he was a man, she thought vaguely: should it have been a woman, she would probably have fainted seeing Richard Armitage in a bathrobe and probably naked underneath… well of course not all women were his fans, but he was objectively an actual hunk…  
When they had finished their full breakfast, Richard gave Nives one of his seductive smouldering gazes which always sent her hormones spinning:  
“Well baby… any ideas how to spend our time together?”  
She put on an angelic face.  
“Not a clue… you?”, she retorted.  
She discovered soon that Richard had only one idea, but *very* intriguing…  
*******  
It was almost night; as they planned, they had spent the whole day locked up in their room, for the most time in bed, except for a hasty sandwich lunch.  
Nives kissed Richard on the tip of his nose. They just finished making sweet love and now they were snuggling under the quilt.

  
“I *adore* your nose”, she stated. He wrinkled it, doubtfully:  
“Really? I always hated it…”  
“Are you kidding me?”, she protested, “You’ve got a fabulous Greek nose, simply perfect”, she kissed it again, then she moved lower to kiss his lips, “And you’ve got a perfect mouth…”, then she moved up again and kissed his eyes, “and the most amazing eyes in the world…”, then she moved sideways and kissed his auricle, “and gorgeous Elf ears…”, she referred to the fact that, in some pictures, he looked like having slightly pointed ears, “You’re my personal Elven prince…”  
He couldn’t have a clue she was referring to Aryon, the co-protagonist of her Tolkienian fan fiction: he was *truly* her personal Elven prince.  
Richard, obviously not guessing what she implied with her statement, grinned amused:  
“Actually I’ve been a *Dwarven* prince…”  
“Yeah, of course, a Dwarf of 1 meter and 89”, she laughed, “That’s – what – 6’2”? Or, to say it with my goddaughter’s mom, *the fake Dwarf*.”  
Richard laughed, too:  
“Yeah, it was indeed weird to see myself so short in the movie, when in real life I see myself even too tall…”  
“Hey, quit finding bugs everywhere in yourself!”, she scolded him, “Or I’ll tell your mom: she’s done a brilliant job with you, and should she know you don’t appreciate it, I’m sure she’ll get very annoyed!”  
He looked at her, stunned:  
“I never saw it this way”, he muttered, “Very well, I quit it…”, he kissed her hair, feeling flattered for her liking him so much; o, of course he knew a multitude of women liked him, but he cared only about Nives, “Anyway I admit now I dislike my nose less, because to play Thorin they had even to enlarge it, and this made me realize that it isn’t really so bad…”, he concluded; his grin had Nives smiling, amused. To say it all, some people affirmed that, following a set accident during a shoot in *The Hobbit*, the actor’s nose had been retouched; if this was true, it has been such a feeble operation, it was practically imperceptible. Anyway, Nives didn’t give a damn: she had always thought him gorgeous and she would think him forever, even when he would be ninety with white hair and wrinkles all over his face.  
Then Richard went on, changing completely subject:  
“In less than four weeks it’ll be Christmas”, he considered, “I’d love to spend it with you…”, he felt her stiffen and wondered concerned if he had said something wrong, but Nives’ regretful answer clarified it immediately:  
“I’d love it immensely, too, darling… but I can’t leave my dad alone at Christmas…”  
Richard remembered that Nives’ mother died a little more than two years earlier.  
“No, of course not”, he said sympathetically; he would do the same for his father or his mother, “Sorry, I didn’t think about it… What would you say about New Year’s Eve? A ski holyday somewhere in a beautiful Italian location?”  
She made a face:  
“It’d be fantastic, but my ability level on ski is like *I put them on to fall*…”, then she laughed, “Hum, well, if I can fall on top of you, we can talk about it…”  
He echoed her laugh, then lifted her chin.  
“You can fall on top of me whenever you want…”, he whispered, before kissing her lips. Nives reciprocated the kiss, chuckling, then she sobered:  
“As a teenager I tried… hum how’s it in English… skiing on slopes?”  
“Downhill skiing”, Richard suggested. She nodded:  
“That. But honestly, I was always a bit scared… I rather prefer cross country skiing; but I don’t want to make it a condition or ruin your vacation…”  
“You wouldn’t ruin anything, I don’t care to ski, I just want to be with you…”  
She hold him tight, feeling moved.  
“Thank you… but I won’t have it. I know how much you like to ski.”  
Her statement surprised him, before he remembered he said more than once, during interviews, how much he actually loved it, and she had evidently seen them; sometimes he forgot he was a celebrity and therefore there were many people who knew pretty much about him, including Nives.  
“I don’t want to leave you alone all day long to scamper the ski slopes”, he said, his face clouding over. Nives felt tears welling up in her eyes.  
“You’re so terribly sweet…”, she whispered, before toppling him on the pillow and kissing him with all her love. Richard reciprocated her; when she left his lips, he tried to object, but she put a finger on his mouth to silence him.  
“Let’s come to a compromise”, she suggested, “What do you say about skiing only in the afternoon? We could stay in bed during the morning, then in the afternoon I relax in the hotel spa – of course we go in one which actually has a spa – and you ski, and then we’ll be together again at night.”  
“I like it”, he accepted, kissing her fingertip, “We’ve got a deal.”  
“Season’s already very late”, Nives observed, “By now it’d be difficult to find place somewhere, don’t you think?”  
“Don’t worry about this, I’ve got my contacts”, he beamed, “I can rarely know with much notice when I can go on holyday and where I go, they’re specialized in *last minute* trips. Sometimes I bumped upon very good bargains. O, and I want this made clear: it’s me inviting you, hence you’re my guest”, Nives opened her mouth to object, “No arguments”, he cut her off, stern.  
“Fine”, she surrendered, “but I pay for my trip myself”, she added in a definitive tone. He realized she wouldn’t change her mind and therefore he just nodded.  
“When would you be able to leave? And how much would you stay?”, he asked.  
She pondered.  
“I think I could leave on 28th or 29th December, for six or seven days”, she answered, “but I must talk to my father before.”  
“Of course, that’s understandable…”  
“But you don’t have to wait for me”, she recommended, “Take all the days off you want, then I’ll simply join you and we stay together as long as possible.”  
“Agreed”, the actor concluded, quite content. He would have over three weeks off, from Dicember 18th to January 11th, but he was aware that Nives couldn’t make it because she would surely not have so many days off.  
His stomach grumbled.  
“Oops”, he chuckled with a funny face.  
“Hungry?”, Nives enquired, giggling.  
“Somewhat”, he admitted, then he glanced at the clock on the night table, “It’s almost five o’clock… did you ever have a traditional afternoon tea?”  
“No… what would it be like?”  
“Canapés and pastries, served with tea; lately even with white wine instead of tea.”  
She frowned:  
“And what kind of afternoon tea would it be, if they serve white wine instead of tea?”, she muttered, shaking her head disapprovingly. He grinned:  
“As a matter of fact… but you know, trends of the moment… But anyway, we still have to drink to your birthday, therefore we can order both tea and a bottle of champagne. So, what do you say?”  
At her smiling nod, he turned and lifted the phone receiver, calling room service; Nives got up, wrapping herself in the hotel bathrobe, and opened the window to air the room: they had been inside all day long, busy in very *intense* activities, and some new oxygen was needed…  
Richard wore the other bathrobe, then hearing Nives laugh he cast her a surprised glance:  
“Hey, what’s up?”  
“I was thinking that by now the room attender must have realized what you’re doing, the whole day locked up in your room and ordering constantly food for two people!”  
He burst into laughter:  
“He certainly realized it, unless he’s an idiot…!”  
When he arrived, Nives preferred anyway to disappear again in the bathroom; coming back, she found a trolley so much loaded with food she halted, open-mouthed.  
“Good heavens, if I eat all that stuff, I won’t be able to dine!”, she cried.

  
“Actually, it’s intended to be instead of dinner”, Richard explained.  
“Ah, okay then…”  
They ate, then Richard uncorked the bottle of champagne and poured it into two stem glasses.  
“Happy birthday, Nives”, he said in a tender voice, giving one to her. She touched her glass against his, making them tinkle:  
“Thank you… This is the happiest birthday of my whole life”, she declared. It was true: even if she had spent other happy birthdays, this surpassed them by far.  
Later, Richard brought out the trolley – as he had done for breakfast and lunch, to avoid any interruption in their *activities* – and came back to sit on the couch; he asked her to tell him about her friends, her job, her bellydance classes, her parents, her passion for writing, wanting to deepen the knowledge of her everyday life, a topic about which, during their Skype conversations, they normally just hinted to. Nives told him gladly about everything, ready to stop at the first sign of boredom, but Richard listened delightedly, both because he was really interested and because she had a manner of narrating things so vivid and exuberant, there was no risk to get bored at all.  
At a certain point – over an hour later – it was she to put an end to the chattering.  
“Now stop talking”, she said, untying the bathrobe belt and letting it slip down her shoulders. Richard followed with great interest the journey of the cloth descending on her arms and chest… but she stopped its falling just before baring her breasts.  
“I’m going to take a shower”, she announced suddenly, jumping up and heading quickly to the bathroom.  
“Hey!”, she actor protested, taken by surprise. She laughed at the face he made – like a child whose candies had been stolen – and promised him:  
“I’ll be back in a flash.”  
She held her word: not ten minutes later she returned and rewarded him *adequately* for his patience…

Sunday, November 30th, 2014

This time Nives was the one who awakened the first. An uncertain light was seeping through the curtains, which in this time of the year meant it could be around eight o’clock. Again, she had slept like a baby: the serenity, the joy she felt in Richard’s arms were doing miracles for her sleep issues. Realizing it, she felt tears in her eyes: she had always suspected that, behind her difficulties to sleep, there was the stress due to the sorrow that solitude caused to her. Now she wasn’t alone any longer: her heart, her soul, her body were full of Richard, a lovely, heartening, trustworthy partner, a partner she never, ever imagined to be able to win over, not even in her most savage dreams.  
In the vague light, she could barely see the features of his beloved face, relaxed in sleep, his lips curved in the slightest hint of a smile. He was so adorable, that Nives lifted just enough to place a kiss on his mouth, feather light because she didn’t want to disturb him; then she went back to lay her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes with a content sigh, awaiting for him to awake.

  
Not much later, Richard stirred and opened his eyes; feeling the warmth of Nives’ soft body against his side, he smiled happily: *this* was the right way to wake up in the morning, with his woman next to him, the one he loved with all he had. He turned to look at her in the feeble light seeping through the curtains and realized she was already awake.  
“Good morning”, he murmured, leaning in to kiss her. She smiled against his lips and, as soon as she could speak again, she rattled out one of her favourite lines of *The Hobbit*:  
“What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”  
Recognizing Gandalf’s line in answer to Bilbo’s greeting at the beginning of the novel and of the relative movie, Richard began to laugh.  
“All of them at once”, he answered correctly. Nives, too, laughed, then she tied her arms around his neck and kissed him properly; he reciprocated steamily, holding her tight.  
“Mmmmmh…”, he sighed at last, “I like to be good-morninged by you…!”, he added, paraphrasing another line of the novel and movie. Nives obviously caught the reference and split her sides laughing, while the actor, too, grinned amused, thinking that her laugh was music in his ears, at least like her love moans, because both were indicators of a happy state of mind, and Nives’ happiness was what mattered most to him in the world.  
They exchanged another kiss, then she began again to laugh.  
“Hey, what’s up now?”, Richard asked, amused.  
“I just remembered an interview of yours… The one where you talked about what you’d do if you had a ring which turns people invisible…”  
“Ouch!”, the actor cried, foreseeing some spicy jest regarding his joking declaration he would use it to ran into the streets… naked. He sighed with an exaggeratedly resigned attitude, “Let’s hear what you have to say about it…”  
“O, only that, if you really would wear it to ran naked along Wilshire Boulevard, I’d pray all the gods of the universe that it slips from your finger!”, Nives giggled. Richard burst into laughter, then he looked askance at her in that way of his which never failed to *agitate* her.  
“You’re sure to want that everyone see me naked…?”, he provoked her.  
She sobered suddenly.  
“Hum, thinking better of it… no. I want to be the only one who sees you naked”, she declared, “Well, except for possible acting needs”, she added, grimacing. This was a reality she didn’t like to contemplate, but sooner or later she had to confront it.  
“They would see me completely naked not even there”, he informed her, “Even in the hottest scenes, you always wear a *cache-sex*…”  
That was true, Nives read about it somewhere; the difference might be small, but nonetheless significant.  
“I’ll try not to be jealous of your future partners with whom you’ll have to shoot sex scenes”, she sighed, “I know it’s only job to you, but… it’ll be hard.”  
“I’ll try not to give you any reason to be jealous”, Richard tried to reassure her; because she was keeping her gaze lowered, he put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to make her look into his eyes, “Attractive as they might be, my colleagues will never be *you*”, he stated in a low voice, but in a manner which couldn’t possibly be questioned. Nives gulped, cursing her insecurity – always latent and popping out at the most inopportune moments – and drove it away.  
“I believe you”, she breathed; then she forced herself to shake away the bad mood, “Shall we order breakfast?”, she asked vivaciously, switching on the light, “I’m hungry like a wolf…”  
Not knowing the English equivalent, she translated literally from Italian, but it was clear enough.  
“Me too”, Richard admitted, following her up in the topic change, “I’ll ask for a *very* rich breakfast because I foresee today we’ll need *many* calories…”, he grinned mischievously, “Except to eat, I have no intention to let you leave the bed, today…”  
She felt a shudder in her depths at the mere prospect to repeat the day they had just spent.  
“Then we must remember to hang the *do not disturb* sign outside the door, as soon as we’ll finish with breakfast…”, she said in a low voice, remembering they had done the same thing the day before.  
After breakfast, while Richard was shaving, Nives fished out of her suitcase a lingerie set she bought expressly for the occasion; aware she was putting it on just to make it go immediately, she giggled feeling in *rascal mode*. When she was ready, she glanced at the mirror, verifying the effect, and was satisfied; she heard water running in the sink, revealing he was done shaving and was washing off his face, and awaited some more unending minutes to give him time to use his aftershave – sandal, a fragrance she found irresistible, even if Richard didn’t need anything to be irresistible in her eyes – and then she approached the door.  
“May I come in?”, she asked, just to announce herself.  
“Yes, of course”, he invited her, turning toward the opening door. Nives appeared on the threshold and leant on the jamb, raising her eyes to look at him teasingly: she wore a dark blue lace bra and matching knickers, sexy in a discreet and elegant way. Richard caught his breath; only by looking at her, he felt a shudder going down his spine, reverberating in his groin.

  
Under his heated gaze, Nives felt bolder: she stretched with sensual movements to provoke him even further and half turned, revealing surprisingly that her knickers were very high cut, leaving her lovely buttocks half bare; Richard’s jaw almost fell on the ground.  
“Do you like my new underwear?”, she asked in a low voice. Unsettled, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain some control over himself.  
“Very much”, he answered, his baritone voice even lower than usual, “but…”, he opened his eyes again, now sparkling with a dangerous light, “I’m afraid I have to take it off of you at once…”  
He threw away the towel wrapping his hips, stripping himself naked, and moved toward her; laughing, Nives bolted away from the door and ran into the bedroom, where she put the table between her and Richard, engaging a cheerful but short fake attempt to escape, which ended when he seized and lifted her, loading her on his shoulder. She laughed and yelled, feigning indignation and pretending to fight, agitating her legs and beating his back with small, harmless punches. In the short journey to the bed, he put to use his advantageous position in order to caress her half-naked bottom, to which she yelled again, laughing.  
Even in the heat of the naughty game they were playing, Richard took care to set her down on the bed in a gentle way; then, as she continued to fake attempts to escape him, he laid down on her, pinning her to the mattress with his weight, and holding her  
wrists over her head.  
“You’re mine”, he announced in an undertone. Nives then gazed at him sexily and parted her legs, hooking her ankles behind his back, virtually imprisoning him.  
“Yes”, she whispered, “and you’re mine.”  
Richard relished the sensation of the hot centre of her body against his; he moved his pelvis, making her feel all of his excitement.  
“Yes”, he confirmed hoarsely, “I’m yours…”  
********  
That day, too, the two lovers committed themselves to each other, ignoring the entire world. Aware that they could be together much more rarely than they would wish, they would use every single moment of physical closeness until the very end, with every fibre of their beings, heart, soul, mind and body…


	4. Chapter IV: Monday, December 1st, 2014 part one

 

Chapter IV: Monday, December 1st, 2014 part one

That morning, Richard and Nives took their time, cuddling in bed until lunchtime; after their meal, Richard went to the press conference, from which he returned about 4.30 p.m., and then they began to prepare for the evening. The show would begin at 8.00 p.m., but the stars of the movie would begin to appear already two hours earlier for short interviews on the red carpet – which this time the promoter had decided, with originality, to be green – and for photos and autographs for the fans who had gathered in a great number, camping outside the cinema for some days already.  
Richard wore an elegant three-pieces suit, dark grey checked in light blue, with a thin-striped shirt and a red tie, then he addressed Nives:  
“So, how do I look?”  
She examined him carefully; realizing she was hesitating, the actor urged her:  
“Well...?”  
“I don’t want to look like a faultfinder but… well, the tie is too gaudy.”  
“Oh? I thought a bit of colour would be pleasant…”  
“Not for the evening… haven’t you got one in dark grey or blue?”  
“Yep, but wouldn’t it be too sombre?”

  
“Nope, you already have the shirt lightening up the suit, even if it’d be better plain instead of striped: never put together stripes and squares…”  
“Unfortunately I brought only this one”, he complained, “I’m really a bumbler, as for dressing up…”  
“This time I forgive you”, Nives joked, “and anyway, you’re absolutely *perfect* when you undress”, she added, winking; Richard burst into laughter, “If you add a white handkerchief, breaking up a bit, you’ll be perfect even dressed up…”, she concluded, making him laughing harder.  
He did as she had suggested and agreed he looked really good.  
“Thanks for the advice”, he said beaming, “I could hire you as a look-expert!”, he concluded laughing.  
“Let’s do it this way: whenever you have to attend an event, ask me, I’ll be happy to give you my advice”, Nives smiled back.  
“But you? How will you dress up?”, the actor inquired, noticing she was still in her bathrobe.  
“As Nerwen the Green, obviously”, she revealed, giggling, “Give me fifteen minutes…”  
She took the gown she hanged in the closet when she had arrived two days earlier and headed to the bathroom, where she changed and put on her makeup, becoming her Tolkienian alter ego; then she went back to the bedroom, where meanwhile Richard was checking his Twitter account. As soon as he caught sight of her on the threshold, the actor put down his cell phone and got to his feet, gazing at her so appreciatively he felt her heart beating faster.  
“You’re simply wonderful”, he said in a low voice.  
“Thank you…”, she answered, thrilled; she moved a couple of steps forward, then she turned slowly, letting him see the back of her romantic gown, green and brown, the two symbolic colours of the character she invented; when she turned again to face him, Richard noticed she wore a set of jewellery in green crystals, composed of tiara, necklace, earrings and ring, which gave her a regal appearance.

  
“Only one more thing”, Nives observed, going and taking a leather pouch hanging from a belt with a copper buckle, “Otherwise I wouldn’t know where to keep my *palantir*”, she joked, showing her smartphone. Richard laughed at her jest and grabbed his own, sliding it into his pocket.  
“Here’s your pass”, he said then, handing her a tag to pin to her dress, “Show up at the VIP entrance; with this pass, they’ll let you immediately in and tell you where your seat is.”  
“Where will you stay?”  
“This time, being it the world première, we’ll stay all in the theatre to watch the show. Of course you’ll sit at my side in the VIP area”, he reassured her.  
“Get ready to have your hand crushed, when Thorin will die”, she warned him, feeling her heart squeeze remembering Richard’s character’s fate, “I even brought handkerchiefs”, she added, showing the little packet before placing it into the pouch, “Better if I take also my eyeliner pencil, I’ll cry so much I’ll need to fix it, after the show…”  
“I’m sorry, darling…”  
“Never mind… it’s just acting, I know it perfectly, it’s only that I am so terribly emotional I cry for every trifle, let alone a character I love madly like Thorin”, Nives reassured him, noticing he was genuinely sorry, “What time shall I be there at the entrance, instead? You’ll be there already, I guess…”  
“Yeah, I go at 6 o clock. The show begins at 8, so it’ll be enough if you arrive fifteen minutes earlier.”  
“I’ll book a taxi for 7.30 then.”  
“I’ll take care of this…”  
Once having made the call, Richard turned again to Nives.  
“After the show, Pete throws a party at the Savoy”, he reminded her what the director had told them two nights earlier, “and… I’ll introduce you to two for me very important people.”  
“Oh? And… who may they be?”, she asked, already foreboding the answer.  
“My parents.”  
Nives felt as she had been swept off her feet.  
“Oh goodness…”, she murmured, sitting abruptly on the bed, “Oh goodness…”, she repeated in a trembling voice. Richard sat at her side and took her hand in his.  
“I already talked to them about you”, he revealed, “and they’re excited, they can’t wait to meet you…”  
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”, she asked him, almost not hearing him, so much was she distressed.  
“I didn’t want you getting anxious, and as I see, I was right… but I assure you have no reason to: I told you, they’re excited, and it couldn’t be different, because they see how much I’m happy, since I met you…”  
“But we’re together for just two and a half months and this is just the third time we meet”, she objected, even more nervous, “Aren’t you rushing things…?”  
“Should I be twenty or thirty, I’d waited”, he admitted quietly, “but at my age I don’t want to waste time: I know what I feel for you and I know you’re the right woman for me, hence there’s no reason to wait. But… if you don’t really want it, I’ll tell Pete we won’t go to his party and I’ll inform my parents.”  
Nives was quiet for some minutes, pondering the question. On one side the felt scared to death – what if Margaret and John Armitage wouldn’t like her? – but on the other side she didn’t want to look bad in their eyes, if she refused to meet them. And then, what did Richard just say about their mood…?  
“Are they really excited and want to meet me…?”, she enquired, looking into his eyes.  
“Yes, they are”, he confirmed, sincerity in his clear blue eyes absolutely unquestionable.  
“Very well then”, Nives accepted: she had never been a coward and wouldn’t begin now, she thought.  
Richard grabbed also her other hand and kissed both.  
“Thank you, I’m glad you accepted to meet them.”  
“Don’t thank me… you’ll pay a penalty for having kept it secret until now”, she retorted with a mischievous grin. Richard arched his brow:  
“Something’s telling me I’ll pay it gladly…”  
Nives got near to him and stared at his lips:  
“You can bet on it… and it’ll be all to my advantage”, she promised. He stared in turn at her lips, still lacking lipstick and slightly parted, bent down and kissed them tenderly.  
“Seriously: thank you, really”, he said then earnestly, before kissing her in a more appropriate way. Nives reciprocated, surrounding his neck with her arms, but after some minutes, she pulled back, reluctantly.  
“If you go on like this, you’ll be late”, she admonished him. Richard sighed:  
“I guess you’re right…”  
They separated and Nives went back to the bathroom to finish her makeup, putting on a darker lipstick as usual, more apt for the occasion.  
Soon after, Richard took his leave, being it the time appointed to go with the others to the theatre.  
“See you later”, he said, brushing lightly her lips with his.  
“See you later…”  
Nives waited for the time to go downstairs and take the taxi watching TV indolently, constantly distraught by the thought of the meeting with the Armitages. She remembered her nervousness when she was introduced to the parents of the man she would marry some years later, but this time it was even worse, because despite Richard’s reassurances, she was afraid of being judged as inadequate to him… like undoubtedly would do many fans of his. She wasn’t neither beautiful nor famous and surely they would tear her to pieces…  
*Stop*, she told herself, *the only thing that matters is what Richard thinks of me, not the rest of the world!*  
But even she continued to repeat it to herself, it was with a wild-beating heart that, five minutes before the appointed time, she went downstairs to wait for the taxi.  
The driver didn’t even blink seeing a fantasy-dressed up damsel, on the contrary, he smiled at her warmly and opened the car door for her, letting her in. Five minutes later she got off the taxi, paid and walked the last fifty yards, being this a pedestrian area and anyway closed for the event. There was an enormous crowd behind the barriers and a big bustle of voices and chatter; Nives saw three splendid Thranduils – one of them clearly a woman – various Gandalfs, three Thorins, half a dozen Legolas, a Tauriel, many Hobbits and even Azog.  
She steered toward a door, dominated by the sign *VIP entrance*, where a security agent verified eh pass she pinned at her neckline and let her in; a second agent checked her name on a list and handed her a card with the directions to her seat, in the third row.  
After going down a corridor, Nives arrived in a foyer where she almost bumped into McKellen.  
“Oh, I’m sorry!”, she cried, mortified.  
“Never mind”, Gandalf’s performer smiled at her, “My dear, but you’re gorgeous!”, he complimented her, making her redden.  
“Thank you, sir Ian… and you’re very elegant”, she reciprocated, admiring his silken scarf which stood out in a pleasant contrast on his grey coat.

  
“Oh, well thank you, Lady Nerwen… I was about to enter, would you accompany me? Or do you prefer to wait for your fiancé?”  
The word *fiancé* increased her agitation.  
“Hum, no, we agreed I’d wait for him seated”, she answered him, trying to control herself, “I’ll accompany you gladly.”  
The elderly actor offered her gallantly his arm and she accepted it. They didn’t even move two steps, when behind them resounded Lee Pace’s booming voice:  
“Look here, Gandalf won Lady Nerwen’s company!”  
They halted and turned smiling, while the very tall performer of the Elven king stopped at their side.  
“Lord Thranduil”, McKellen welcomed him quietly, “Am I wrong, or yours is plain and simple envy?”, he asked, grinning. Lee burst into laughter:  
“I admit it, I’m envious, yes!”, he declared jokingly, then he addressed Nives, “Your Thorin is signing the last autographs, shortly he’ll arrive”, he announced.  
They were just about moving, when Evangeline Lilly arrived, wearing a striking beautiful ivory coloured silk gown with a strass-covered bodice leaving her arms and shoulders completely bare; Nives wondered how she didn’t freeze in the cold air outside.  
“Good evening”, the actress said, staring at her, “I think you’re Rich’s Italian fiancée…”  
She spoke in a polite, but cold tone, and Nives found her instinctively unpleasant. Too bad, because she thought she was gorgeous and had really liked her Tauriel.  
“You’re right… Nice to meet you, Mrs Lilly”, she answered in an identical tone.  
McKellen exchanged a knowing glance with Lee: it was clear the two women didn’t like each other.  
“Shall we go in?”, the American actor intervened, taking Evangeline by the arm, “You’re next to Orland, aren’t you…?”  
“Don’t mind her, my dear”, sir Ian said to Nives under his breath, “Evangeline’s quite the drama-queen and is worried about you stealing the spotlight…”  
Nives snorted:  
“What a fool! And how could I? She’s an international star, dazzling and famous, and has an important role in the movie, while who am I? A modest country girl…”  
“…who tonight is Richard Armitage’s mysterious companion and therefore tomorrow there will be lots of conjectures on you, obscuring Evangeline’s attendance”, McKellen pointed out, smiling sympathetically to her. Nives shut up: she had not thought about this. Oh goodness, not only tonight she would be introduced to Richard’s parents, but the day after half the world would know about their relationship… yet she should have expected it: it was the price to pay for being with a celebrity. She sighed: she had to begin and get used to it…  
If her companion heard her, discreetly he didn’t come off; he escorted her to her seat, not far from Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh, while McKellen was on the other side of the aisle.  
“I hope to have the opportunity to talk with you again later, during the party”, Gandalf’s performer told her while taking his leave.  
“Sure, gladly”, Nives beamed at him. Some moments later, Lee came and took his seat next to her, on the opposite side as Richard.  
“Tonight you’ve got two fiancés”, he joked, holding up two fingers. Again that word, thought Nives, heart in her throat; it almost scared her.  
“So, both Richard’s and your fans will be jealous to death”, she had barely the strength to reply appropriately, making him roaring in laughter; then she looked around, noticing other actors taking their seats, among them Aidan Turner with his partner Sarah Greene, Dean O’Gorman, James Nesbitt and his daughter Peggy, Martin Freeman, Benedict Cumberbatch, Sylvester McCoy. Then Orlando Bloom and Luke Evans – two of the most handsome men in the world in Nives’ opinion, of course after Richard – arrived together.  
“Tell me”, Lee invited, distracting her, “How did you meet Richard? I don’t mean that evening at the theatre, but artistically speaking…”  
“Oh, it’s ridiculous, actually”, Nives answered chuckling, “The first time I saw him, I didn’t even notice him…”  
She told him how she didn’t mind Guy of Gisborne, ending up buying the whole BBC series after discovering he was the same actor as Thorin Oakenshield; Lee was greatly amused.  
“You don’t even look at me?”, Nives heard a deep baritone voice behind her; she jumped, “I’m *offended*…”  
Nives jerked around, finding Richard standing in front of her, beaming at her that bright smile of his which she was crazy about; he was so handsome in his elegant dark grey suit, she stared at him, bewitched.  
“I didn’t see you arrive”, she explained, “I was talking to Lee…”  
“Shall I become jealous…?”, Richard pretended to frown, taking his seat. Lee had seen the enamoured gaze Nives had addressed to his friend and began to laugh:  
“Are you kidding me? Your pretty Italian girlfriend has only eyes for you, mate… you can bet she doesn’t even see me!”  
“You’re right”, Nives confirmed, “No offence meant!”, she added hastily, turning her eyes at the American actor with an apologetic glance, but he smiled widely:

  
“None taken”, he reassured her.  
Richard bent over to her and brushed her hand in a fleeting caress.  
“You’re charming, Nives”, he said in an undertone; his adoring gaze left her breathless and she blushed.  
“Thank you”, she whispered, not realizing she was staring at him with the same adoring expression.  
Richard noticed he was wearing also a choker with a pendant.  
“I’ve seen this before… is it the same rune you wore on your nails in London?”  
“Yeah”, she confirmed, “Do you know what it represents?”  
“Well, you said it’s a dwarven rune, in honour of Thorin…”  
“It’s not exactly this”, Nives revealed then, “but I hadn’t the courage to tell you, before: actually it represents the R for Richard. Therefore, more than in honour of Thorin, it’s in *your* honour.”  
He gazed deep into her eyes and she felt like drowning in those stunning clear blue irises.  
“I’m dying to kiss you”, Richard whispered, “I really don’t know how I’ll manage to hold back myself until the end of the movie without making a show…”, he bent toward her, “I think I’ll kidnap you during the break and bring you in the backstage…”  
“I think I’ll let you kidnap me…”, Nives replied in a low voice. Then she bent and picked up a cloth bag – the fantasy equivalent to a purse – and showed the copy of *The Hobbit* it contained, the same she brought two nights ago at dinner, “I hope I’ll have the chance to get autographs from all the actors here”, she said, putting down the bag again, “Too bad Graham McTavish isn’t here, he’s one of my favourites… and Cate Blanchett… I’d have died, should Galadriel have been here!”, she concluded, laughing.  
“Both couldn’t come because of undelayable job commitments”, the British actor explained. She nodded, then opened the leather pouch at her belt and took off the Kleenex pack.  
“I get ready already… I brought also my eyeliner and lipstick, I’m more than sure I’ll ruin my makeup crying out my eyes. When Guy died I felt bad for days… with Thorin it’s surely going to be worse”, she repeated what she had already told at the hotel. He squeeze her hand.  
“No”, he said in a low voice, “This time there’s me here with you.”  
Touched, she reciprocated the squeeze.  
“Yes, your presence will prevent my complete collapse”, she mused, “but you’re not Thorin, you’re Richard, and I’ll cry for Thorin, not for you.”  
Again, she reiterated she could distinguish between him and his character; even if he knew it was him the once she loved, absurdly Richard felt a sting of jealousy about Thorin.  
“And luckily I have not to cry for you”, added Nives in a small voice, lowering her gaze. He felt his heart tighten, considering she had cried her fill, in the past, because of a man.  
“I’ll *never, ever* make you cry”, he avowed firmly, keeping his voice low, “Only tears of joy. I *swear*.”  
Nives felt a lump in her throat and squeezed his hand again, touched. She didn’t know how much the facts of life would actually allow him to keep his promise, but she knew he would do anything to keep it.  
Meanwhile the parterre area destined to the general public – separated from the one reserved to the stars and the authorities by a red rope guarded by the security agents – and the balcony were rapidly filled with people until, at five past eight, the lights dimmed, but weren’t completely turned off, while a spotlight was switched on, illuminating the stage on one side. At this point, an elegantly dressed middle aged woman came out and went to the centre of the stage.  
“Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and welcome to the Odeon Cinema”, she began; suddenly, the chatter in the theatre stopped, while everyone focused on her, “I’m Joan Harte, the manager, and I’ve got the immense pleasure to present the world première of Peter Jackson’s latest masterpiece, the third movie of the trilogy of *The Hobbit*, entitled *The Battle of the Five Armies*. I have no doubt you all know already the previous movies, as well as the prior trilogy of *The Lord of the Rings*, therefore it is surely unnecessary for me to speak about it. Mr Jackson wants to say some words, so with great pleasure I call him now here on the stage.”  
She turned toward the direction she had come in and Jackson made his appearance; Nives was surprised because she didn’t notice him leaving his seat, in the row behind hers. The audience burst into a great applause and Jackson, microphoned like the theatre lady manager, smiled his greeting before coming to the centre. He awaited for the clapping to cease, then he began to speak:  
“It’s an immense pleasure, for me and my colleagues of the cast and crew, being here tonight in London for the world première. We received the warmest welcome ever and we are deeply touched by it because it makes us feel your support and love. I hope the movie will match your expectations: me and all those who worked in it, from the actors to the technicians, from the writers to the costume designers and makeup artists, we have done our very best to produce something special. Enjoy the show!”  
The ovation following his words was deafening and the New Zealand director bowed, visibly touched. When the applause decreased, he headed toward the exit, and someone shouted:  
“Silmarillion!”  
It was clearly a request: from this other book by Tolkien, the fans had already evaluated the possibility to produce at least six movies. Jackson stopped briefly and, with a smile, he raised his thumb in an approval sign. He never hided he would love to make other Tolkienian movies, but at the moment the heirs of the Professor had no intention to sell the copyrights on *The Silmarillion*.  
The lights dimmed further while on the screen appeared a warning, inviting the attendees to turn off their mobile phones. Jackson hastened back to his seat, and finally the theatre darkened and the movie began. Only by hearing the introductive music, Nives felt her hair stand on end because of the emotion. *Now that’s fine*, she thought, *If I begin like this already, I don’t know how I’ll manage to arrive to the end…*  
The story unfolded in the plot she knew by heart, after reading the novel so many times she even remembered some lines. The tension raised while the battle drew near and Nives, her eyes glued on the screen, felt more and more on edge. Richard peeked at her face and, noticing her agitation, caressed her hand in a reassuring way. She reciprocated, diverting shortly her gaze from the screen to beam him a grateful smile.  
The break finally arrived; it would last fifteen minutes. As soon as the lights were switched on again, Richard got to his feet and made Nives stand up, too.  
“I need to stretch my legs”, he said, loud enough to the neighbour to hear, “Do you like to come with me?”  
His face didn’t reveal anything particular, but Lee saw through the façade and tried to suppress a knowing smile; not being able to, he turned away from them so they couldn’t spot him. Stretching legs my ass, those two were going to make out like two teenagers in love head over heels in each other… Again, he felt a sting of benevolent envy for his friend.  
Richard, who knew the building because he had worked there at the beginning of his career as a stage actor, led Nives through a door with the inscription *private*, beyond which they found a security agent who, recognizing the actor, addressed him a nod. They went up a short flight of stairs and arrived in the backstage.  
“Here are the dressing rooms”, said Richard, opening a door and entering; the room was empty and, as soon as Nives crossed the threshold, he closed the door and drew her into his arms. Of course, she was expecting it and hence she wasn’t surprised; she wrapped her arms around his waist and raised her face to his.  
Their mouths met and fused in a kiss, beginning sweetly, lips against lips, and then deepened in the encounter of their tongues, sensually caressing one another. Richard brushed her back under her long, loose hair, in a caress he learnt particularly affected her, and actually he felt her shudder against his body. It was intended as a small provocation, but it turned against him, because feeling her tremor sent his hormones skyrocketing. With a gasp, he hold her tighter, and so he made it worse because he felt all her soft curves against himself. Dazed, he realized he was having a hard-on, exactly like a teenager kissing his girlfriend behind a door, hiding from parents. He thought it was incredible… and at the same time, wonderful; because he felt exactly like this, like a youngster discovering the most beautiful sentiment in the world.  
“Goodness how much I love you…”, he whispered on her lips.  
“Me too…”, Nives began, but was cut off by another deep kiss. Her heart raced, beating like a hammer in her chest; she was thrilled to the top. She would never believe it possible to stay in Richard Armitage’s arms, to be kissed that way by him, to hear him tell her he loved her; only three months earlier – returning from London – she would consider it a dream absolutely impossible to come true. Instead here she was, in an empty dressing room, holding tight with him… who was showing her all his desire.  
As soon as he left her lips for a moment, she asked him wittily:  
“Thorin, tell me… this thing I’m feeling is Orcrist or what…?”  
Richard was temporarily speechless, then he burst into a low laughter: he adored her mischievous sense of humour. In response, he grabbed her hips and held her even tighter against his body, making her feel every inch of his arousal.  
“I’d love to *slip it into his sheath*”, he murmured, answering properly to her provocative gag, “but as much as we’d be fast, we really don’t have the time for a quickie. Which is, incidentally, something I hate: I like to take my time, with my beloved.”  
He said precisely this: *beloved*. An old-fashioned word, romantic and intense. The way Aryon called Nerwen. Nives felt her heart skip a beat and her eyes filled up with tears. Heavens, what was this man…?  
“I love you so much…”, she whispered in a trembling voice, “There are not enough words to say it…”  
He closed her mouth with a tender kiss.  
“Words are never adequate enough to express sentiments”, he said in a low voice, “Poets come near to it, but not even they succeed completely. I could deliver Romeo’s lines in the scene under Juliet’s balcony, but it wouldn’t be enough…”  
Nives imagined Richard as her personal Romeo and felt a lump in her throat.They remained there, holding tight, some minutes longer, exchanging kisses on kisses, until a glance to his watch persuaded Richard to pull back.  
“Break’s almost over, we have to go back”, he announced ruefully. Nives noticed he had a lipstick smear on the corner of his mouth and removed it with her thumb. She thought surely she had no more lipstick on her own lips, and all those who would notice it would realize what she and Richard had done in those few minutes. She felt a little embarrassed, but also proud, proud to be her, only her, and no other, the one who had his love.  
When he saw them returning, Lee glanced knowingly his friend, but discreetly didn’t say a word; then he noticed a suspicious bulge in Richard’s trousers, which the length of his jacket couldn’t hide completely, and had to turn his face away to conceal his amusement.  
The narrative tension by now was at his top and recaptured immediately the audience. The battle gathered like thunderous clouds and finally it exploded. When it happened, chaos was set loose, on screen and in the spirits of those watching the movie. Elves, Dwarves and Men, led by Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Bard, Bildo, Thorin and his twelve companions, fought furiously against the Orcs of the Misty Mountains and of Gundabad led by the wicked Azog, Sauron’s minion; the clash was getting bad for the heroes of the story, when unlooked-for came the Eagles to help them, attacking the enemies. The fate of the battle reversed and the Orcs’ armies retreated hastily; but at that precise point, destiny hit cruelly Durin’s heirs: Azog killed Fili, Thorin’s elder nephew; then it was Kili’s turn, the younger, who died in a furious fight against a troll, in his eyes a crying Tauriel’s image. Even if Nives didn’t appreciate much this unlikely love story, she felt nonetheless affected by the evident pain of the beautiful redhead Elven maiden.  
Meanwhile, Thorin was fighting against Azog, and finally he was able to kill him; but he was mortally wounded by the Orc.  
Nives, who was gripping Richard’s hand, even if she knew perfectly well that this moment would arrive, started violently on her seat and stifled a whimper, while tears filled her eyes. She struggled to find her handkerchiefs and took one, wiping her eyes.  
Richard did his best to make Nives feel his support and to comfort her, holding her hand and caressing her fingers with his thumb. She reciprocated his grip, glancing at him gratefully; in the dim light coming from the screen, she saw his worried face, so she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. He took advantage of this to caress her tear-wet cheek.  
The scene went on; Bilbo found Thorin still alive, but his wounds were too serious. The words he addressed to the Hobbit, Nives knew by heart and made her cry even harder. Richard couldn’t stand it any longer and put an arm around her, drawing her near as far as the armrest between their seats allowed him to. In the whole theatre, many people were crying, some trying to hide it out of shame, other ones openly.

  
Hearing Nives’ sobs caused a lump in Richard’s throat and he felt his eyes dampen: her emotion touched him deeply. He places his chin on her head and held her tight.  
When the battle was over, Thranduil urged Legolas to depart from he Woodland Realm to search for his own destiny, which he foretold to be connected to a young Man called Estel, whose true name was still unknown. Seeing the Elven king so deeply touched he had tears in his eyes made Nives’ heart tremble and the original aversion she felt for him in the past disappeared.  
The movie arrived to the bittersweet epilogue, with Bilbo returning home knowing he was not the same person anymore as the one who set out one year earlier, exactly how Gandalf had foreseen. When they asked him who Thorin was and he answered *he was a friend of mine*, new tears flowed profusely from Nives’ eyes. The last scene, with a by now old Bilbo receiving Gandalf’s visit in the day of his one-hundred-eleventh birthday, closed with a black fade-out and the first notes of the end credits song, performed by Billy Boyd who, in the *The Lord of the Rings* trilogy, had played Pippin. More tears flowed on Nives’ cheeks and on those of many others in the large theatre.  
The light returned slowly; the audience burst into a thundering applause and many stood up to tribute a standing ovation to the director and the cast and crew. Nives, too, even if her knees wobbled – no more, no less than at the Old Vic – got to her feet and addressed her clapping to Richard and Lee, then she turned and did it to Jackson, Fran and Philippa. Actors and crew members returned the clapping to the audience honouring them. There were many shouts of *bravo* and *incredible, fantastic, superb, cool*. At this point, Richard got to his feet to reciprocate the applause to the praising audience as a thanksgiving gesture; Lee imitated him immediately, then Jackson and his wife, Philippa, and finally also the other actors followed their lead.  
Of course the fans would have loved to speak to their favourite actors, but the security agents were guarding closely the access to the VIP area. While the applause slowly ceased, the cast, crew and the few guests who had been selected for the party stood up and began to exit the theatre. They left the building through a side passage which led them on the street, where a row of taxis was waiting to carry them to the Savoy.  
Once they had arrived, not ten minutes later, while they were entering the hall Nives said to Richard:  
“I have to take care of my makeup, I must be a disaster… I cannot show up this way at your parents!”  
He glanced at her and saw that actually she had no lipstick – eaten up by his kisses during the break – and the eyeliner was blurred because of her tears. He thought her gorgeous anyway, but he understood her wish to look at her finest, also because there were some reporters at the party who would surely shoot some pictures which would go around the world in no time.  
“I’ll wait for you”, he said with a smile. She nodded and asked for the lady’s room at the reception, and was directed in a corner of the hall.  
Lee arrived after a moment and stopped by his friend.  
“So, ol’ man”, he addressed him, beaming widely, “I see you’re quite smitten with your Nives…”  
“You can surely say that”, Richard confirmed candidly: even if their friendship was recent, it was sincere and deep and he had no problem to confide to him how he felt. Anyway, Lee had been one of the first ones he had told about his sweet Italian girl. Then he saw his parents coming in and went to meet them. His mother Margaret, very elegant in her simple burgundy evening gown with a black shawl, smiled at him and Lee noticed once more how much her son resembled her.  
“I’m sorry I left you alone”, Richard began, but she interrupted him with a wave of her hand:  
“It was only right for you staying with the cast and with your girlfriend”, she said quietly, “By the way, where is she, now?”  
“She went to freshen her makeup… she cried a lot, when Thorin died.”  
“Granted… I cried a lot myself”, his mother confessed. John patted him on the back.  
“My congratulations, son, you did a great job”, then he noticed Lee and gestured him to come over, “Good evening Lee, my congratulations for your performance.”  
“Thanks, John”, the American actor answered, shaking hands with him, “Good evening Margaret, how are you?”  
“I’m a very proud mother, of course”, Richard’s mother declared wittily, “but also nervous… I’m going to meet the woman who was able to win my younger son’s heart.”  
“Nives, too, is nervous”, Richard informed her, “She’s afraid you could dislike her…”  
“How sweet”, John smiled, “It could be her, to dislike us…”  
“I refuse to think that the persons I love more in the world could dislike each other”, the actor stated categorically, “but maybe it’s better if you wait here, I go to meet her, so I can prepare her.”  
He left, and so did Lee, thinking it was inopportune to witness a delicate occurrence such the meeting of Nives with Richard’s parents.  
“Our boy is pretty madly in love”, John commented to his wife, “I’ve never seen him so *taken* with a woman… he reminds me, me with you”, he concluded, smiling at her.  
Margaret smiled him back, remembering the time when the two of them were sweethearts.  
“Me too”, she admitted, “The only thing I’m sorry about, is that they live so far from each other.”  
“Yeah… it’ll be hard for them; but if they love each other so much as we think, they’ll manage it”, her husband reassured her.  
Meanwhile, Richard was waiting for Nives outside the lady’s room’s door. Soon after, she returned, her makeup impeccable again.  
“My goodness”, she commented, “the restroom is sumptuous, it’s like the Topkapi… you know, the Turkish sultans’ palace… where the restrooms are in Carrara marble and alabaster.”  
“Well, it’s the Savoy”, he reminded her, winking, “one of the most luxurious hotels in London, hence I’m not surprised…”, he took her arm, “Are you ready to meet my parents?”, he asked, looking into her eyes, now earnest again: a hesitation of her part, and he would spare her the ordeal.  
Nives felt her heart jump in her mouth: the moment had finally arrived. She looked around her; she immediately located Margaret – both for having seen her in internet photos and for her remarkable resemblance with her son – together with a man, undoubtedly Richard’s father, and noticed she was looking at her with a reassuring smile. Suddenly, her anxiety lessened, even if it didn’t disappear completely; she reciprocated the smile.  
“Let’s go”, she exhorted her partner. Pleased by her positive attitude, Richard led her to his parents.  
“Mom, dad, may I introduce you Nives Nardini?”, he said formally, “Nives, these are my parents, Margaret and John Armitage.”  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you”, Nives said, not even sure it was the right formula, shaking hand first with Margaret and then with John.  
“Our pleasure”, Richard’s father assured her, smiling: maybe she wasn’t a striking beauty, he thought, but this Italian woman was undoubtedly very pretty, and had very sweet eyes.  
“I’m glad to meet you”, said Margaret, she too smiling, “and I wanted to thank you for rebuked my son about not appreciating my *job* with him”, she added chuckling. Nives blushed remembering where she said this, that is in bed with Richard, but then she realized his parents couldn’t know this.  
“Ah, well… it’s just what I think”, she laughed.  
“I put in something, too…”, John intervened in a benevolent scold.  
“Yeah, that’s why our sons are such good results”, Margaret affirmed with motherly pride.  
“Fine DNA!”, Richard laughed.  
“I’d say that!”, Nives confirmed, she too laughing; she thought that her *parents-in-law* seemed very nice and unpretentious persons, and this was a great relief.  
In that moment, Peter Jackson arrived with his wife Fran.  
“Good evening, Mrs Armitage, Mr Armitage”, he said, shaking hands with both of them, “What do you think about the last episode of the saga?”  
“Extraordinary”, Margaret declared, “Very captivating, and the finale is really moving. If there’s Billy Boyd, I want to congratulate him about the final song…”  
“Yes, I invited him too, he’ll be here in some minutes I think… Shall we go in?”  
“Yeah, sure…”


	5. Chapter V: Monday December 1st 2014 part two

 

Chapter V: Monday December 1st 2014 part two

John took gallantly Margaret’s arm and Richard did the same with Nives; invited to by their friends, Jackson and his wife got in front, therefore entering the party room like at a state dinner with the Queen of England.  
In the room there were two authorised journalists, the American Marlise Boland of the blog *The Anglophile Channel* – she was a good friend of Richard – with her cameraman, and the English Burt Lenard of the famous magazine Empire with his photographer. Following the arrangements, they would record the evening after the première with short interviews, pictures and takings.  
As soon as they entered, a beautiful woman with almond-shaped eyes approached Richard and Nives.  
“Nice to meet you again, Richard”, she said with a pronounced Californian accent, smiling, and then looked at Nives inquisitively, “Don’t you introduce me to your lady?”  
“Of course… Marlise, thjs is my girlfriend, Nives Nardini. Nives, may I introduce you Marlise Boland of *The Anglophile Channel*?”  
“Of course!”, Nives cried, recognizing her from the picture on her Twitter account, and extended her hand, “I follow you on Twitter…”  
Marlise shook hands with her, smiling, then she gazed at Richard, not hiding her surprise:  
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend! When did you meet? And how did you fall in love…?”, she stopped laughing at herself, “Sorry, that’s my journalistic curiosity… but I don’t conceal the fact that I *adore* love stories, really *personally*…”  
“We came out only today and would like to prevent any useless conjectures”, the actor said, “If you’d like to have a short interview with us about this, you could be very helpful in this purpose.”  
Marlise noticed how Nives’ cheeks became rosy and thought she had to be a delightful person; but after all, to be congenial to Richard it couldn’t be differently. Instinctively, she decided she liked this nice Italian woman.  
“I’ll be glad to”, she cried, “The Armitage Army will go crazy about this!”  
Nives blinked: so they were almost there…  
“Oh good heavens… I don’t know if I’m cut out for this..”, she whispered, suddenly panicking.  
“Cut out?”, Marlise repeated, positively struck by ber modesty and finding in it the confirmation that her instinctive fondness had been right, “Richard’s fans – those who really love him, and there are many – will be happy to learn he finally found love; as for the other ones, they’ll be insanely jealous and will throw at you all sorts of curses and insults, but you have just to ignore them because they don’t deserve anything else…”  
Nives was positively surprised by the genuine support Marlise was showing her.  
“Thanks for your support, Mrs Boland”, she smiled, “I’ll need it, I’m not used to any kind of media exposure and becoming suddenly the target of worldwide curiosity will be a traumatic experience.”  
“If you don’t want to do it, we won’t have any interview”, Richard said immediately, worried she could be uncomfortable; but Nives shook her head.  
“It’d mean only postponing what is inevitable, by now they saw and photographed us together; if it’s not us speaking up, telling how things really are, there’ll be lots of gossip and absurd comments which sincerely would bother me much more”, she looked in his eyes, “Let’s do it.”  
Marlise gazed at her with a sense of new respect: there was a woman who knew how the world worked and did not hesitate to face it head-on, without avoiding it or beating around the bush.  
They talked a little while longer, then they parted and Richard and Nives approached the table with the refreshments, where they helped themselves with canapés and fingerfood.  
“Hey Rich!”, they heard a cheerful male voice behind them, “Please introduce me to this pretty lady…”  
Nives turned around and met the smiling dark eyes of one of her favourite Dwarves, obviously after Thorin.

  
“Certainly”, Richard answered hurriedly, “Nives, this is James Nesbitt, the funniest of the Dwarves…”  
“After Thorin, of course”, the Irish actor cut in, laughing.  
“Of course”, Richard laughed, “Jim, this is my girlfriend, Nives.”  
They shook hands:  
“Nice to meet you, Nives…”  
“It’s a pleasure, Mr Nesbitt…”, she began, but the interrupted her with a vivacious gesture:  
“Please, just Jim!”  
“Oh…fine, Jim. I adore your Bofur!”  
“Really? You’ve got good taste”, the Irish actor joked, “Tell me, who’s your cosplay? You look very *elfish*, but you haven’t got pointed ears…”  
“I’m not an Elf, actually”, Nives explained, giving him a bow, “Nerwen the Green, friend and colleague to Gandalf.”  
Nesbitt’s eyes widened.  
“What, a female Istar? Well, Lady Nerwen, I can say that I’d prefer a thousand time having you instead of that boring Gandalf…!”, he stated emphatically.  
“Never bad-mouth a Wizard”, Richard scolded him with Thorin’s scowl, “or you could end un transformed into a toad.”  
They laughed out loud: then Nives took his book and a pen and looked at Nesbitt:  
“Would you please autograph this?”  
“Very gladly…”  
She searched quickly in the book, then she handed it over, opened on the page containing a picture of the company of the Dwarves – because there wasn’t one of Bofur – which he signed.  
“May I have a picture with you, too?”, Nives asked him, lifting her mobile phone.  
“Of course!”, the Irish actor accepted immediately.  
“I’ll take care of it”, Richard offered, inviting Nives to hand him her phone: he knew how much she hated selfies. She smiled at him gratefully, then Nesbitt grabbed her in a bear-hug, making her laugh, and Richard shot the picture.  
“Now leave her”, he then told Nesbitt, “or I could become jealous…”  
The Irish man laughed, not at all intimidated: his devotion to his wife was out of question, as well as the mutual esteem between him and the English actor.  
“I don’t think you’d need to, old man”, he reassured him, “It’s absolutely clear that Nives has eyes only for you.”  
Nives blushed, but being it just the pure and simple truth, she felt embarrassed only for a fleeting moment.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Dean O’Gorman and Aidan Turner confabulating and Susan Green, Turner’s partner, laughing; then she saw them approaching.  
“Oh, my nephews are coming”, said Richard jokingly, referring to their characters in Peter Jackson’s saga.  
The two *nephews* stopped in front of Nives and bowed simultaneously.

  
“Dean…”  
“… and Aidan…”  
“At your service!”, the finished together. Nives burst into an uncontrollable laughter, and even Richard and Nesbitt grinned.  
“Nives, at yours!”, she replied promptly, bowing, remembering Bilbo’s line when Fili and Kili, Thorin’s nephews, introduced themselves to him.  
Everybody laughed again.  
“You’ve been able to soften our uncle”, Aidan commented, with Kili’s insolence, “Congratulations!”  
“Thorin in love, who’d have thought it?”, Dean added to it. Richard frowned, imitating his Tolkienian character:  
“Enough now, show some respect to your uncle!”  
“As well as your king!”, Nesbitt stood loyally up to him, playing Bofur.  
There was another burst of laughter, which drew Orlando Bloom’s attention while he was passing by.

  
“Hey, what’s there to laugh so much?”, he enquired, amused. Going on acting as Thorin, Richard grumbled:  
“Don’t meddle, you nosey Elf!”  
Getting promptly the hint, Orlando glared at him, throwing daggers:  
“Don’t think I won’t kill you, Dwarf!”  
Again, they all roared with laughter.  
“You’re really a nice party!”, Nives commented as soon as she gained back her breath, “Nice to meet you, Mr Bloom…”  
“Orlando, for pity’s sake”, he invited her, like Nesbitt, “or else I’ll feel an old bloke… and you’re Nives, right?”, she nodded to confirm, “Lee told me…”  
They chitchatted amiably for some more time, then Nives let her book go around for the autographs, who everybody signed gladly – Orlando on the frontispiece, as his character didn’t appear in the book – and asked and got a picture with each one, having even a second with Dean and Aidan, posing between the two.  
“Sandwich kiss!”, the blond New Zealander exclaimed, winking to the dark Irish. Nives got therefore a kiss on each cheek and Richard shot precisely while she was crying out in amused surprise.  
“Now leave her at once or I slice you up like salami!”, growled the British actor in genuine *Thorin-esque* style. His two *nephews* backed away laughing and Orlando, replacing them, showed to be so much terrified by Thorin to keep very distant from Nives, to the greatest amusement of all; then he confidently took her arm and Richard shot another picture.  
Aidan returned to Sarah, while Orlando and Dean went to chat a little with Evangeline, Lee and sir Ian. Also Nesbitt excused himself, going back to keep company to his wife and daughters; Richard and Nives approached Margaret and John, who were chatting with Jackson. The director smiled at them pleasantly, but Nives glared at him, pretending to frown:  
“Peter, I’d kill you”, she declared, surprising him, “you made me cry out my eyes”, she turned toward Richard, “For the same reason I’d kill you, too…”, then she smiled at their worried faces, “You’ve been great, both of you. Stratospheric. I’ve got no word to express my admiration. Peter, you couldn’t choose a better actor as Richard to play Thorin!”  
The director beamed:  
“Thanks, but it’s Richard’s credit, who was able to render Thorin even better than I had conceived him.”  
“But it has been you who prompted me correctly”, Richard replied, modest like always. Jackson, knowing him, had expected it and therefore he shook vigorously his head:  
“Okay, but it would have been useless if you wouldn’t be the actor you are.”  
Richard opened his mouth to respond, but Nives intervened firmly: she had realized that otherwise the two of them would never cease to praise one another.  
“Let’s say it was a perfectly successful *in tandem* job: one has been able to bring out the best from the other and vice versa.”  
Both looked at her, stunned.  
John and Margaret had attentively followed the exchange and felt definitively won by Nives’ verve and charming straightforwardness.  
“A Solomonic judgement to which you cannot contradict”, Margaret said, laughing. The two involved laughed, too: dividing the credits exactly in two halves, Nives cornered them both.  
John offered a stem-glass to his wife and another one to Nives:  
“Some champagne, my dear?”, he asked.  
“Yes, thank you”, she accepted, taking the glass. The other ones, too, helped themselves and made a toast to Jackson’s and Richard’s success, then they began a relaxed chat.  
“Shall we continue the tour for the autographs and photos?”, Richard asked after a while. Nives nodded and so he took her arm, leading her towards Lee, who was talking with Evangeline and Orlando.  
“Careful, ol’ man”, Lee admonished him laughing, “if you squeeze her some more, you’ll rumple her…”  
Richard grinned, but did make no move to let go of Nives, continuing to hold her close to him; he was so happy to be allowed to do so, declaring openly that between them there was an intimacy going far over the casual acquaintance or even friendship, he was unable to pull away; from her part, Nives was more than happy to feel his arm around her shoulders and to put hers around his waist, and to lean into him and embrace him. What she did right then, overcome with a sudden wave of happiness.  
“You’re really a beautiful couple”, Orlando declared, sincerely. Evangeline glanced at Nives, weighing her up.  
“I agree”, she stated, surprisingly; the Italian woman noticed that her in her attitude there was no longer any trace of the slight hostility she had felt at the beginning and, glad of it, she felt her aversion for the actress vanishing; she pulled away from Richard to pull out her book.  
“I’d be very glad if you’d sign this copy of *The Hobbit*”, she said, showing it to her, “on the frontispiece, like other colleagues of yours.”  
“Sure”, the actress accepted graciously, posing then with her for a picture, again shot by the willing Richard.  
They exchanged some words, then Richard told Nives:  
“Look, here’s your other colleague, Radagast…”  
Nives turned and met the agreeable wrinkled face of the smiling Sylvester McCoy.  
“Oh Mr McCoy!”, she cried, thrilled, “I’m so glad to meet you! I adored your Radagast…”  
“Well thank you, my dear!”, McCoy replied, flattered, taking her hand and kissing it gallantly, exactly like McKellen had done two nights earlier, “Glad to learn it… They tell me you’re a colleague Istar: I must say that it was about time for a feminine touch in our Order, too: it was such a bore, to be only among men!”, he concluded in jest.  
“Boring, you say it!”, intervened McKellen, laughing, who was passing nearby and had heard his colleague’s words.  
McCoy, too, signed gladly Nives’ book and posed for a photo; then Richard introduced her to Andy Serkis, the performer of the unhappy Gollum in both the trilogies, as well as the second unit director for the three movies of *The Hobbit*. Again, Nives felt greatly thrilled.  
“Mr Serkis, I want to express all my admiration for your interpretation of Gollum, which I find simply extraordinary”, she told him.  
“Thank you!”, she smiled, “Glad you liked it.”  
They spoke briefly about his work in both the cinematographic sagas, both as an actor and as a director, and then Nives asked him an autograph and a picture, which Serkis was glad to grant her.  
At this point they were approached by a middle-aged man, chubby and with short iron-grey hair.  
“Congratulations, Richard”, he began, “both for your job and, as it seems, also for your love life…”  
He gazed at Nives interrogatively, awaiting to be introduced.  
“Nives, may I introduce you to Burt Lenard, journalist of *Empire* and my old acquaintance”, Richard said, “Burt, this is Nives Nardini, my girlfriend.”  
“Nice to meet you, Miss Nardini… Italian?”, asked Lenard, shaking hands with her.  
“Yes, exactly”, she confirmed.  
“A colleague of mine is from Milan and her name is Nives, therefore I thought you too could be Italian… Where did you hide her, until now, Richard?”, he addressed the actor, winking, “How long are you together, if I might ask?”  
“We met three months ago”, Richard answered casually.  
“Some more details, to satisfy your fandom’s surely immense curiosity?”, Lenard insisted politely.  
“Later Marlise will shortly interview us”, Richard answered, “then you can do the same after her; but remember, take it easy with Nives, she’s not used to”, he recommended. Lenard glanced at the woman and saw her uneasiness.  
“Agreed”, he promised, “I don’t want to make uncomfortable anyone, if I ask some displeasing question, just tell me.”  
“You can count on it”, Richard replied kindly, but under the politeness, an admonishing note vibrated: if the journalist wouldn’t keep his promise, he would got to deal with him. Lenard was too experienced not to understand it and would consider this; with a nod, he left them.  
During the following 30 minutes, among canapés, champagne and pastries, Nives obtained autographs and photos from Manu Bennet, who played Thorin’s nemesis, that is Azog the orc and who, very hilariously, begged her melodramatically not to hate him because he had caused the Dwarf’s death; Billy Boyd, who in *The Lord of the Rings* had been Pippin Tuc and in *The Hobbit* had composed and sung the end song, *The Last Goodbye*; going through the Dwarves Adam Brown and Jed Brophy, the young John Bell and his cinematographic father Luke Evans, Stephen Fry, Ryan Gage and Benedict Cumberbatch. All were extremely friendly, with the only exception of Cumberbatch who, being a very reserved person, was colder but not less kind.  
Finally Richard addressed Nives:  
“What do you say, shall we go to Marlise for the interview?”  
Dismayed, he saw he widen her eyes, on the edge of panic  
“Richard… I don’t know if I’m ready…”, the young woman said in a choked voice.  
“Did you change your mind?”, he asked, worried. If she didn’t want to, he wouldn’t certainly force her to do it; but earlier she had looked so determined, so now he didn’t understand the reason for this panic attack. Usually Nives wasn’t easy to be frightened and seeing her unexpectedly full of fear was a reason to worry about.  
Nives shut her eyes for a moment.  
“No, I didn’t change my mind”, she said with some difficulty, “My opinion remains that it’s better to speak clearly to avoid unpleasant gossip, and also to live our relationship out in the open sunlight, as we say in Italian, without hiding ourselves as we did in these last months, but… you know… only now I realized for good how much, because of this, my life will turned upside down… I’ll be targeted with curiosity, end under the spotlights, there’ll be people talking and badmouthing about me…”, she looked at Richard, “You’re used to it, but I’m not!”, she concluded with an almost hysterical note in her voice.  
Richard grasped her hands and brought them to his chest, returning her gaze with a new understanding.  
“I didn’t consider this”, he said slowly, “If you don’t really want to do it, we have not to, not immediately. We can wait a little longer…”, he repeated what he already said.  
Nives breathed deeply, gleaning from her knowledge in yoga techniques to calm down. Once, twice. Thrice.  
“No”, she finally said, regaining a semblance of demeanour, “It must be done, at this point they’ve seen us together, and both Marlise and the other reporter know we are together. Doing it now is better: *the tooth’s gone, so the pain’s gone*, we say in Italian. Your fans will X-ray me duplex, and some of them will tear me to pieces, envying me to death… but as Marlise said before, I must ignore them and count instead on those who sincerely support you and who’ll be happy for you and will therefore accept me”, she took another breath, “Let’s go”, she encouraged him finally.  
Richard felt a deep respect for her and he thought he loved her more than ever. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them fervently.  
“You’re a great woman”, he whispered; Nives smiled at him and it appeared to him like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, “I love you”, he added in a very low voice, only for her.  
Holding hands with her, Richard led her to Marlise, who was chatting with Luke Evans. Seeing them approaching out of the corner of her eye, she excused herself with the handsome actor and fashion model and moved toward the couple.  
“Ready for the interview?”, she asked smiling.  
“Nope”, Nives confessed, “but I’ll never be, so better do it now and forget about it..”  
The world-wise Californian journalist looked at her with a sense of respect: it seemed that Richard Armitage had found a really exceptional woman, provided with an outstanding determination and strength of character.  
“Come, let’s find a quiet corner for our talk”, she invited them, gesturing to her cameraman to follow her.  
They went on the other end of the room, next to the small stage – designed for an orchestra during the possible dancing evenings – and took place, Richard, Nives and Marlise on one side, the cameraman on the other. The reporter took her wireless microphone, which was connected to the camera, while her colleague positioned it on his shoulder and switched it on, pointing it toward the actor and his companion. Noticing it, Nives felt hot, then cold. She squeezed convulsively Richard’s hand and he squeezed it back, encouragingly.

  
“We are here in London, at the party following the world première of *The Battle of the Five Armies*”, Marlise began, looking into the camera, while the cameraman focused on her in a close-up, “The thrill at watching the movie is not gone yet, and I have other thrilling news to tell you, which I know will please many on one side, and displease as many on the other: Richard Armitage wants to introduce someone to us…”, she turned toward the actor, “don’t you, Richard?”  
“Yes, you’re right, Marlise”, he confirmed, smiling at the camera turning to focus on him, “A wonderful person whom I met some months ago here in London and who struck my heart immediately, so hard I fell in love pretty much at first sight…”, he turned to Nives while the cameramen angled the shot to include her, too, who was staring at Richard with a dazed face, “This is Nives Nardini, the love of my life.”  
Nives fought hard not to gape at this statement; of course he had repeated her for months now that he loved her like he had never loved anyone before, but hearing him state it during an interview – which, through Marlise’s blog and from there to YouTube – would be watched by *millions* of people, left her breathless.  
“Nice to meet you, Nives”, said the journalist smiling, but seeing her daunt face, she chose not to ask her direct questions, “I’m sure that a great number of Richard’s fans will envy you”, she said then, “but I’m also sure that as many will be happy for him, who as it looks like has finally found the woman of his dreams. How is Nives, Richard?”  
“Like you said: the woman of my dreams”, Richard answered smiling, “She has all the qualities I was looking for, and even many more.”  
Nives blushed heavily while the camera focused on her face in a close-up; that flush would win her much benevolence from the audience, thought Marlise’s cynical journalist part; but the human part found her simply adorable.  
“If I remember well, some time ago you stated three qualities which were essential to you: a little naughty, food-loving, with a sense of humour. Now it sounds to me, as you speak of her, that Nives has them all.”  
“Exactly, in addition to many others, as I said before.”  
“Tell us how you met.”  
“One evening she came to see me in *The Crucible* and I noticed her. I didn’t think I could find the woman of my life like this, but… it happened. Just like that. Our eyes met and there was this sparkle. I invited her for a drink and then things developed… and here we are.”  
“I *adore* love stories… promise me you’ll tell us every detail in a dedicated interview, won’t you?”  
“If Nives agrees…”, he answered, still uncertain if she really wanted it. Nives swallowed trying to wet her dry throat.  
“Gladly”, she managed to say in an almost normal tone.  
“The Armitage Army will go crazy”, Marlise stated, looking back again into the camera, “Who among us has never fantasized about meeting her idol and to win his heart? Nives is all of us!”, she concluded in an enthusiastic exclamation, “Richard Armitage has finally found his life companion and we can’t but wish them all the best. This is Marlise Boland from London, United Kingdom, for *The Anglophile Channel*.”  
The cameraman switched off the camera and Nives sighed:  
“I’ve been a disaster…”  
“Not at all”, Marlise contradicted her, “You’ve been natural and adorable. The audience will find you delightful, believe me.”  
“I completely agree”, said Richard, smiling at her. Nives returned it weakly.  
Burt Lenard of Empire had watched their manoeuvres and kept a discreet eye on them; now he approached them with his photographer, exchanging a respectful nod with Marlise.  
“Can I go on with my interview, too?”, he asked Richard and Nives. The actor glanced at his companion:  
“Would you like a break?”  
She shook her head:  
“No, we’re dancing, so let’s dance to the end… I don’t know how you say in English”, she concluded with a pale apologising smile.  
“To be on a roll, or in the running”, Richard suggested. Unexpectedly, Nives chuckled:  
“Yeah, I feel like rolling down a mountain!”  
The joke won her the cynical *Empire* journalist’s fondness.  
“Sure you don’t want to wait?”, he asked her kindly, “We can do it later…”  
Again, she shook her head:  
“No use to get over all the adrenaline from the thrill of my first interview with Richard and then get stressed for the second”, she said, shrugging.  
Lenard smiled:  
“You’re right… I’ll ask just a few questions, I promise. May I call you by name, as I do with Richard?”  
“Yes, of course…”  
“Fine, thanks. First question, the most obvious: how did you meet?”  
Richard repeated what he had told to Marlise.  
“And tell me, what did struck you about Nives, so that you asked her to stop?”, the perspicacious reporter asked.  
Richard hesitated a moment: he couldn’t certainly tell him about the odd predestination feeling he had sitting on the seat where later Nives would sit, a feeling that even now was so weird to him he thought it disturbing.  
“She was sitting in the first row”, he said instead, “wearing a romantic white corselet which flared each time the spotlight hit her. Impossible not to notice her. Then, when I went out and found her waiting for me at the stage door, she was so kind and nice that… well, she impressed me and so I did something unprecedented, that is inviting her for a drink.”  
Lenard nodded, then he addressed Nives:  
“Tell me, Nives, how was it for you meeting Richard Armitage?”  
“Very thrilling”, she answered, more at ease with no video camera, “He was… and obviously is still… my favourite actor, and seeing him perform live has been fantastic. Then I waited for him outside to gain an autograph and a photo with him; he was nice to all, but surely I didn’t expect him to invite me for a drink…”  
“How did you react?”  
“I didn’t believe my ears”, Nives chuckled, “I was sure I was having a… an auditive mirage, is it correct to say so?”  
“I don’t know, but surely it gives the idea very good”, Lenard chuckled, too, then he addressed Richard again, “Your professional life is at his highest, and now it looks like your love life is, too: how do you feel?”  
“I feel like the luckiest man in the world”, the British actor stated, gazing at Nives with that little smile of his she liked so much.  
“I see”, Lenard commented nicely, “And you, how do you feel, Nives?”  
“Ah… still incredulous”, she answered, “I feel like living in a dream. A fangirl’s dream.”  
The description struck the reporter.  
“I like it! May i use it for the piece?”  
“Sure, you can.”  
“Last question: Richard, you live in New York, and you, Nives, in Italy… by the way, where, exactly?”  
“Near Venice.”  
“Thanks. So, I was saying… it won’t be easy, for you, to meet…”  
“No, it isn’t”, Richard admitted, “but fortunately there are airplanes, Skype, internet. We exchange messages every day and speak on the phone repeatedly during the week, and then we meet every time we can, like here.”  
“Fine, I don’t want to bore you any longer”, Lenard concluded, shaking hands with Nives, “Thank you for your time. Congratulations!”, he added cordially.  
“Thanks, Burt”, Richard answered, shaking hands, too, with him.  
“Would you pose for some photos together”, the journalist asked, pointing to his colleague, who had waited without uttering a word until now.  
“Sure…”  
The photographer shot from different angles, then he thanked them and took his leave together with Lenard.  
“So, how was it?”, asked Richard, looking at Nives.  
“Less worse as I feared”, she admitted, beginning immediately to relax after the tension she had felt, “I hope that possible future interviews will be all like these two…”  
“The pro are rarely rude or annoying”, the actor reassured her, “Sometimes improvised reporters are, because they have no sense of proportion, but with pros I’m pretty easy, especially if I know them like Marlise and Burt. Shall we drink something?”, he asked then, changing topic, “All this chitchat made me thirsty…”  
“Me too”, Nives laughed, at this point completely calmed down.  
They approached one of the tables with the refreshments, where they found Margaret and John Armitage. They stopped to talk with them.  
“Richard told us you think about meeting for some days in Italy for New Year’s Eve”, Richard’s mother said to Nives.  
“Yes, right”, she confirmed, “We still don’t know exactly where, but this is our idea.”  
“I hope one day or another you’ll come to visit us at home”, John intervened. Margaret nodded:  
“Yes, we’d love it! Maybe at Eastern? Can you take a couple of days off from work?”  
“Thank you, I’d love to come”, Nives answered, happily surprised by the invitation, “But I don’t know what Richard’s commitments will be…”, she went on, looking questioningly at him.  
“Up to now, I don’t know, either”, the actor stated, “but if we decide to do it, I’ll organize my commitments the best way, if there’s the slightest possibility.”  
They decided therefore that, except for any accident, they would do so, with Nives and Richard being guests at his parents’ home for some days during Eastern holiday next year, which would be at the beginning of April.  
The party continued, eating and drinking and chatting with the attending cast and crew, most of all Lee Pace and Peter Jackson. Sometimes Nives and Richard exchanged glances and smiles, becoming more and more allusive as time went on, while the mutual desire, only temporarily suppressed by the strong emotions of the evening, returned and took possession of them again.  
At a certain point Nives could stand it no more and whispered in his ear:  
“What do you think if we go back to the hotel?”  
Richard glanced at her with that expression of his which made invariably throb her femininity and answered under his breath:  
“I think it’s about time…”  
They began to say goodbye; they weren’t the first ones, because already some others had gone, so they hoped the reason for them taking leave wasn’t too evident. Obviously they were wrong, but no one dared any inappropriate jokes; only Lee allowed himself the luxury of a wink at his friend, who in turn addressed him a small grin.  
The doorman summoned a taxi for the couple, who a few minutes later was again at their hotel. Hand in hand, the two lovers crossed the hall hastily and took the lift. While they went up, Richard brushed the back of her hand with his lips.  
“You are gorgeous, Lady Nerwen”, he murmured. She felt a long, warm shudder travelling from her nape to the tip of her toes; her dream was there, in front of her, and had became reality, and was staring at her with eyes full of love and desire. No, she told herself: it was thousand times *better* than a dream, because he was Richard in flesh and blood, not a fantasy, and she could slather him in kisses and caresses.  
“Thank you…”, she whispered back, swallowing the lump in her throat.  
The lift stopped with a soft tinkling sound and the doors opened silently; they stepped out and soon after entered their room.  
“Give me some minutes”, said Nives, stripping herself of her cloak and lying it on the desk chair, “You make yourself comfortable”, she exhorted him, looking at him meaningfully.  
“Okay”, he accepted grinning, taking the hint immediately.  
In the bathroom, Nives put back the jewellery in her beauty case, then she remover her makeup and undressed; not wanting to carry over her gown, she hung it on a free hook near the shower stall, then she freshened up and finally she went back to the bedroom in her lingerie. This time it was an ivory lace twin-set, elegant and intriguing at the same time, enough transparent to flare up imagination but not trespassing into indecency. Nives planned to leave Richard breathless… but she didn’t foresee he would have the same plan.  
She found him leaning with a shoulder on the wall near the bed, barefoot, his shirt completely unbuttoned revealing the sculpted muscles of chest and abdomen, on his face a naughty expression.

  
They stared at each other, eyeing one another greedily, almost without breathing.  
“You’re… very sexy”, Richard managed to say, his voice hoarse with desire.  
“You too”, Nives squawked, moving a step toward him. The actor pushed himself from the wall and approached her, taking her into his arms and seizing immediately her lips in a hungry kiss. And it was exactly this what he was feeling: hungry, hungry for her, but not only her body; his need went much beyond the physical sphere, because it was made both of flesh and sentiment. He craved for the physical completion, but also for the emotional one, which only she could give him, because she was the woman he loved with each iota of his being.  
“I love you, Nives”, he whispered on her lips, before kissing her again, deeply, caressing her tongue with his in a sensual way. She moved her arms around him to his back, under the shirt, and rubbed her body against his, making him groaning out of pleasure. He grasped her hips to stop her, but then he changed his mind and hold her tighter. Against her belly, Nives felt his virile hardness and groaned in turn.  
“I want you so much…”, Richard sighed, “*You, do you understand me?, *you*…”  
“Me too, Richard… me too”, Nives gasped, while he bent to kiss her neck. She felt his hands on her back, climbing under her hair to her shoulder blades, caressingly, and shuddered: she adored to be touched like this, it excited her and at the same time it moved her because it wasn’t an erotic caress, but loving, set not by lust, but by sentiment.  
Richard’s fingers rested on the hook of her bra and unfastened it; slowly, he pushed the straps down her arms and let the garment fall on the floor; his lips wandered lower, on her chest, on the soft mounds of her breasts, until they closed around a hardened nipple.  
Feeling him brushing those sensitive buds with the tip of his tongue, Nives uttered a delighted cry. She moved her hands on his front, on his abdomen, caressing it; she felt his muscles tremble under her touch and heard him sigh. Then she climbed to his chest and slipped her hands under his shirt, making it slip down from his shoulders. He let her go for a moment, so to pull out his arms from the sleeves, then he took her again into his arms and took care of the other nipple. Nives arched her back, moaning, offering herself to his mouth; Richard moved his hands and hooked her knickers, pulling them down her legs. She shifted her legs in order to help him and a moment later she was completely naked.  
“You’re… overdressed…”, she panted, fumbling with his belt buckle. She unclasped it, then she unbuttoned his trousers and lowered the zip, carefully because his hard-on was pressing against it and she didn’t want to hurt him; finally she touched him.  
Richard jumped and instinctively pushed against that hand cupping his manhood.  
“Gosh Nives, you’re… you’re fantastic…”, he hissed, breathless. His trousers fell around his ankles, followed a moment later by his brief boxers. He kicked them away, then he placed his hands on her nice bottom and lifted her; she wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her to the bed, where he laid her carefully across it and eased himself on her.  
“Make love to me, Richard…”, Nives urged him in a low voice full of desire, “Make love to me with all your passion…”  
She was amazed by her own boldness, but the crave for him was literally devouring her and she didn’t blush. He hadn’t even touched or kissed her intimately like he used to do, but she was already more than ready for him; she had never been so eager about a man… No one had ever been able to turn her on with virtually nothing.  
But Richard thought differently: he adored indulging in paying homage to her body, to drive her crazy for him.  
“I’ll do it”, he promised in a low voice; the tone of his voice, an octave lower than usual, sent her heart fibrillating, “but before I want to taste you…”  
Nives’ depths twisted at the mere idea. She unhooked her ankles, still crossed behind his back, and Richard climbed down her body, raining it with kisses as he went on, on her chest, breasts, belly, until he arrived at her warm female flower. Nives’ secret essence made his head spin every time he tasted it, but he forced himself to take it easy, opening the damp petals carefully to taste them slowly.  
Feeling him licking her in this sweet and at the same time exciting way, Nives arched her back and grabbed the sheets, uttering a loud cry of pleasure.  
Her reaction flattered him and made him caressing her even more firmly.  
“Ah!”, he heard her almost shout, while she started violently; at this point, he placed a last kiss exactly on her most sensitive spot, then he rose and positioned himself. Nives had her face turned on one side, her long hair scattered all around her head, and was simply stunning.  
“Look at me”, he demanded. Immediately she turned her eyes on him, her gaze fogged with desire. At this point, Richard pushed himself inside of her, filling her, and Nives welcomed him with a whimper expressing both pleasure and relief. Richard let slip a pant; he moved forward and backward, in a slow and wide movement.  
“Nives… You’re so perfect, Nives… sweet… hot… soft… My Nives… I love you…”  
“Richard…”, she gasped, overwhelmed, “No… you are perfect… my love…”  
Remembering how she had urged him to use all of his passion, he began to thrust more decisively, ever glancing at her face to ensure he was doing fine; he saw her lips open out of pleasure, while her eyelids veiled her eyes and her breath grew ragged.  
“Yes… like this…”, she encouraged him. Hearing her rapturous sigh made his throat go dry; he half-closed his eyes, enjoying her closeness, physically but not only. Without realising it, he increased the pace; her moans filled his ears, taking his breath away, making him thrusting even more vigorously, exactly like she had asked him. He felt her tense beneath him, her nails digging into his back; his heart jumped to his throat while he realised she was about to reach the peak.  
Nives was completely at the mercy of the pleasure Richard was giving her, her mind clouded, her breath laboured, her body on fire; she was uttering incoherent sounds, feeling her climax approaching fast. She tensed, her lips forming a flabbergasted ‘o’; then completion arrived, swamping her like an avalanche, and she gave off a long, excruciating whimper. Too excited to resist, at her first clenching Richard was dragged into the vortex of bliss; he threw back his head and uttered a similar groan. It was the first time they achieved the height together, thus amplifying the mutual enjoyment, and for long moments they felt like being on another dimension, full of delight both of senses and sentiments, from which none of them would return.  
Finally their spasms ceased; exhausted by the physical exertion, but even more for the intense emotion, Richard gently laid down on her.  
Slowly, their laboured breaths calmed down, and also their altered heartbeat. Richard turned his head and rained small kisses on Nives’ shoulder, then on her neck, climbing up to her jawbone to finally reach her lips, kissing them delicately. Buried in a cloud of bliss, Nives reciprocated him with the same sweetness. He had made love to her passionately, almost wildly, yet he was capable of such an incredible tenderness she felt tears in her eyes. She held him tight.  
“I love you, my handsome British boy”, she whispered.  
“And I love you, my sweet Italian girl”, he answered in turn, kissing her again.  
They cuddled for a long time, before they finally made up their minds and slipped under the covers to sleep.

 

 _Author’s note:_  
_The mentioned actors were all present at the London première, except for Dean O’Gorman; it was a creative license because I liked too much the idea to reproduce Fili and Kili’s arrival scene at Bilbo’s for Nives. I hope you enjoyed the sketch XD._


	6. Chapter VI: Tuesday December 2nd, 2014

 

Chapter VI: Tuesday December 2nd, 2014

It was noon when Richard and Nives came down to checkout; Nives’ flight took off at 16.50, while Richard would go to his parents and then leave for Paris in the evening of the next day, to attend the second première.  
They had a huge lunch – they didn’t have breakfast to be together until the very last moment – and then waited in the hall for the booked taxi to arrive and pick up Nives.  
“Have a nice trip home”, Richard wished her, kissing her one last time on her lips before she got in the car, heading to Victoria Station, from where she would take the Gatwick Express, “Please call me when you’ll be home.”  
“Okay; and you please give my best to your parents.”  
“I’ll do it…”  
Nives got in the car and Richard shut the door; she looked at him through the window and blew him one last kiss, which he caught and brought to his heart, and then reciprocated. He watched her going away with a heavy heart; even if he knew they would meet again in less than four weeks, that is less than half the time they had needed this time, but it seemed always too long…  
*********  
As soon as she had returned home, Nives sent a message via Whatsapp to Richard informing him she had arrived, and he answered just minutes later sending her kisses and flowers, as well as his parents’ best.  
Immediately afterwards, Nives called her father to inform you she was sound and safe; Luigi wasn’t the apprehensive type, but she knew he liked to know how things were going on. Even during her stay in London, she had sent him some messages by Whatsapp, like while they were returning at the hotel after the première and the following party, to tell him her relationship with Richard Armitage had been officialised. It had been also a way to reassure him that the actor was really being serious with her who, even if an adult, would forever be his baby girl and therefore anyone who would try to mess around with her would be in big trouble. She told him she had spent some wonderful days – obviously without going into detail, but Luigi wasn’t certainly naïve and knew perfectly what she intended for wonderful; anyway, he and Tina, Nives’ mother, had been apart for some time because of his job, therefore he had a fair idea what it meant to meet again after a long separation.  
After the chat with her father, Nives searched the web for news about the announcement of her relationship with Richard Armitage. Marlise didn’t release the video on her blog yet – probably this would need some days – but the other internet magazines attending the première, like *SciFiNow* and *Apex Magazine*, surely had released an article about it that same day; but having spent the morning busying herself in other… businesses, and the afternoon travelling home, she hadn’t had the chance yet to look, and now she was dying with curiosity.  
She found immediately an article released by *SciFiNow* talking about the première, with some pictures, among which one of her and Richard in the theatre, the moment they were returning to their seats after the break. He was smiling his gorgeous smile which always had her melting away, clearly very happy, and she was radiant. The piece talked about what happened during the première and then related briefly about Richard Armitage being escorted by a young Italian woman whose name wasn’t made known yet, but who, having it on good authority, was his new fiancée. On which *good authority* it hinted, Nives had no big trouble to imagine: except Richard’s colleagues, who surely didn’t indulge in useless gossip, anyone attending at the party could have spotted the two of them in an clearly intimate attitude, waiters first of all, and mentioned information and notions to the journalists.

The readers’ comments were reported under the piece and Nives began to read them with some anxiety.  
*Hey, this lass is really pretty! She looks very happy, but how blame her?? She’s with a man as fantastic as Richard!*  
*Hey Richard! An Italian woman, huh? Italians are THE BEST you knew it, gourmand!* (The signature of this comment was an Italian name).  
*I’d like to know more about this girl! She’s one of us!!!!!*  
*God how I envy her! Lucky lady, she got him…*  
*Well he could chose somebody prettier…*  
*I want to he HER!!!!!!!!!!!*  
*What does he see in this girl? I’m far better!!!!! LOL Mine is just enormous envy…*  
*I hope only she’s not with him out of convenience and visibility, that she loves him truly and makes him happy, or else I go to her and smash her in the face!!!*  
*I’m happy for you Richard! You deserve all the happiness in the world*  
*I KNEW HE WASN’T GAY! At the most he could be bisex, but not gay, I always knew it…*  
Nives exhaled a sigh of relief: the positive comments were far more than the negative ones, and those, too, were not utterly hostile. Then she realized it was only the beginning and she could expect the worse at any moment.  
Apex Magazine, too, had released a piece, more or less the same, and there, too, there were comments about the same level, except one more venomous declaring Nives was an *ugly and fat, scheming social climber*. This description was so totally absurd and far from reality, that she began to laugh uncontrollably.  
Also the English webzine *Cinema Magazine* had released an article about the première, remarking that finally Richard Armitage had definitively clarified he wasn’t gay. Comments were very different, going from quiet to enthusiastic, and many said they wanted to know more about this mysterious Italian woman who was able to win the heart of an actor who had become one of the most famous icons of the British cinema.  
At this point, Nives went to see per Facebook profile; she was on that social network, as well as on Twitter, with a pseudonym, but she wasn’t sure this would be enough to protect her privacy. The few friends whom she had trusted the truth about her boyfriend had assured their discretion, meaning they wouldn’t boast about their friendship with Richard Armitage’s sweetheart; but she couldn’t count the same on the other friend, many of them didn’t know her true name but, seeing the pictures spreading on the web, would link them back to her profile. It was a good thing she had a private profile, where only friends could see her pictures; but she was aware they could take those pictures and post them on their timelines, bragging about their friendship with her. She had thought about it, but it didn’t make sense try and hide, in an era where privacy had become only an illusion; hence, she foresaw an avalanche of friendship requests from perfect strangers, which she simply would bin. She thought about creating a public page where who clicked *like* would receive notices, but she laughed at herself: she *wasn’t* a celebrity, Richard was, and doing something like this would give the impression she was really showing off, not to mention she didn’t have time for it. Therefore she let immediately go this extravagant idea.  
Then she thought that, while on Facebook her avatar was a historical figure she greatly admired – Hypatia of Alexandria – on Twitter there was a picture of her as Nerwen the Green, therefore Richard’s follower, seeing her comments, could identify her and she would wind up suddenly with hundreds, even thousands of followers who could comment on her account. Thus she hastened on this social media and took away the image, thinking about another, more neutral one; then she realized the utter pointlessness of it, because many Twitter users were also on Facebook and viceversa, therefore if they found her out in the latter, they would find her out also in the first. The only thing she could do, was to change the account settings, so she wouldn’t be flooded over by private messages or postings by her followers…  
Shaking her head, incredulous, she put back the picture: at this point, her face was already known by many thousands of people who had read the webzines and watched Marlise’s blog, besides in a few days also *Empire* would be released, talking about the première and including their interview with Burt Lenard. Then she searched for the settings and made the appropriate changings.  
It was late now, so once she finished, she turned off her PC and went to sleep, somewhat dazed by the journey and by the consciousness her life was about to undergo a revolution.

Wednesday, December 3rd, 2014

When Nives woke up and turned on her mobile, she found a voice mail from Richard:  
“Well awakened, my sweet Italian girl. I miss you already… Remember I love you.”  
Nives smiles, touched: Richard was always so nice and considerate… sometimes she wondered if he was real, because he seemed simply too perfect. She felt so much lucky, that each minute of each day of each year of shredding loneliness she suffered had been worth, until the last one. Tears welled up in her eyes, but it was for too much happiness.  
“Goodness, how much I love you, Richard!”, she cried, addressing her mobile, which wallpaper was one of her favourite pictures of Richard, a close up on three quarters which showed him with *bedroom eyes*, as she called them.

  
She had breakfast, then went to work. Marilena, the owner of the company, arrived about nine o’clock and, even if very busy as usual, found the time to ask her how it went during her long week end at the première with *Cris*, the name by which she knew Nives’ English boyfriend.  
“Fantastic!”, Nives answered with enthusiasm, “I met all the attending actors and even the director, I got autographs from everybody and even some pictures”, she stopped, “and regarding Cris, I must tell you something important, when you’ve got time…”  
The blonde woman watched her intently and saw she was on pins and needles.  
“I go a minute in the workshop to see if they need me, then I come back immediately”, she said decidedly. She was always very gracious, when it came to important things, and therefore Nives considered her a friend, in addition to an employer. After all, when back in June she felt sick and almost fainted in the middle of the office, she had accompanied her to the hospital and had stayed with her until a colleague, who worked part time in the other office, came and took turn with her, sparing her father the stress to come himself. There was nothing to say about it, she had simply incredible colleagues, and she was aware she was very lucky in this, too.  
About ten minutes later, Marilena came back to the office and sat in front of Nives’ desk.  
“Tell me”, she encouraged her, smiling. In response, Nives took her mobile and showed her Richard’s picture she was using as a wallpaper.  
“This is Cris”, she said. Marilena watched the image.  
“What a handsome man!”, she exclaimed sincerely, then she furrowed, “Wait a moment, I know him”, she lifted her eyes and looked at the calendar behind Nives, which was dedicated to Richard Armitage, “but…! He resembles very much to your favourite actor!”, she glanced at her suspiciously, “You won’t tell me that’s him??”  
While Marilena had been in the factory, Nives had recovered the piece by *Apex Magazine* and now she showed her the screen.  
“We came out Monday evening”, she explained, “We didn’t do it earlier because we wanted some privacy… Cris is short for Crispin, his middle name”, she concluded.  
The blonde woman burst into laughter:  
“My congratulations, dear! You have been single for so long a time, and when you finally find a fiancé, you take the best you could hope for!”, she got to her feet and turned around the desk to hug Nives, “I’m so happy for you…!”, she stated, radiant, “I almost can’t believe it… Come on, tell me how it was…”  
So, Nives made a summary record of her incredible London adventure with the actor of her heart, of the unexpected turning point in Venice and of the thrilling development again in London. From time to time the phone interrupted the narration, but Marilena, even if she was very busy, wanted to hear it all.  
“And when will you meet again?”, she asked.  
“We’ll spend some days together for New Year’s Eve”, she answered, “Then we’ll see case by case his commitments. With his job, he’s always running around the world… today for instance he’s going to Paris, were the second première will take place, then he’ll go to Rio and finally to Los Angeles. Then he will take some time off on vacation and he’ll be in England at his parents’ for Christmas.”  
“Well, if you need some days off to see him, just ask me with enough notice, especially during high season…”  
“Don’t worry, I’ve got no intention to ditch my job, except for an emergency”, Nives assured her. Marilena smiled affectionately: Nives had always been very parsimonious in asking days off, and never with an adequate notice.  
“I know, it was only to say that, except because of organization problems, you mustn’t have qualms about asking, okay?”  
“Okay”, Nives nodded, grateful. She was lucky to have such an employer, she thought. She already knew it, of course; this was just the nth confirmation.  
**********  
Luigi was very resolute, when during lunch Nives told him about Richard’s invitation to spend New Year’s Eve with him:  
“You’ll go as soon as possible and stay all the time you can, even up to Epiphany”, he said peremptorily. Nives gazed at him affectionately: her father was a man of few words, almost grumpy, but he wasn’t an egoist for sure. The year before, he had almost forced her to go on vacation at least one week, in August, when she didn’t envisage it at all, not wanting to leave him alone only a few months after her mother’s death; and this year he had exhorted her to take again her usual two weeks’ vacation.  
“No, it’s too much”, she answered in an equally peremptorily tone, “and anyway I don’t want to come back the last day, I don’t like to go back to work the day after. No, I decided I’ll go on the 29th and come back at the 5th, it’s a full week already.”  
Luigi glanced at the calendar.  
“Why don’t you go on the 27th, instead?”  
“Dad, I don’t wish to leave you alone for too long…”, Nives began, concerned. He shook his head again:  
“Don’t worry about me: I still manage well, and anyway you know there are Francesca and Livio”, he reminded her, referring to her goddaughter Marina’s parents, to whom he was a second father, “I’m not alone, come on… It’s you, the one who has been alone for so long, with no partner, and now you’ve got one and you can’t be together so often, I demand you take advantage of each and every chance to do so. Only this way you get me content.”  
Nives’ mobile phone chose this exact moment to send off the chirp of an incoming text message; she looked and saw it was Richard. She opened it and read *I’m already on the hunt for a nice place for the two of us at New Year’s Eve, as soon as I’ve got news I’ll let you know. I love you.* A smile blossomed on her face and Luigi grinned knowingly.  
“It’s him, isn’t it?”, at his daughter’s surprised smile, his grin broadened, “Nobody else sending you a text makes you smile like this. This tells me how much he makes you happy”, he always said *he* referring to Richard, because he was really not able to memorize this for him exotic name, “And he’d better do”, he added, frowning, “or else you know already he’d end up dead.”  
Nives hugged him heartedly.  
“Thanks, you’re the best daddy in the world…!”  
*********  
When at night she went back home, Nives thought it was better to inform her friends – the *real* ones – about what had happened; particularly Francesca and Livio, whom she would ask to keep company to her father during her absence. Francesca was her best friend for twenty years now, she had comforted and supported her greatly during the terrible months following up the separation from her husband and later, just two years before, she were at her side physically and morally after the passing of her mother, who had been a second mother for her, as like as for Livio. Se was also one of the few persons who knew exactly how much her sentimental solitude was affecting her.  
Only she and Livio, besides Beatrice and Lorraine, knew about Richard; but she didn’t tell her about the announcement yet. She would surely be very happy for her, like Livio.  
She would use her deferred birthday party, next Sunday; they would hardly find out earlier, because none of her friends was a fan of Richard Armitage and therefore sought news on the web about him like she had done until some months ago and like she still did, sometimes, even if much less frequently because now she could get them first-hand.

Friday, December 10th, 2014

“What do you think about Cortina d’Ampezzo?”  
Richard’s question, with whom she was talking through Skype, caught Nives by surprise.  
“It’s a very beautiful and chic location”, she answered, thoughtfully, “like Davos in Switzerland, for instance: do you know it?”  
“Davos? Certainly”, he stated; he was in New York, where he was resting for some days after the premières tour de force, ended up two days before in Los Angeles, and where the next week he would be interviewed in a popular US talk show, “How far is Cortina from where you live?”, he asked.  
“Wait, I’ll check…”, Nives answered, verifying it on Google Maps, “About three hours and twenty minutes”, she said, “It’s not very close, but not unreachable either”, she added hastily, seeing him a bit perplexed.  
“You sure? You don’t mind to drive the whole way?”, he wanted to make sure, caring as usual.  
“It’s really just two hundred kilometres”, she pointed out, “but not being there any highway, you need more time. But I don’t mind to drive, so there’s no problem at all.”  
“And what about snow?”  
“I don’t mind it, either, as long as the roads are clear; I’ve got winter tyres and also snow chains.”  
“Fine, so shall I confirm the booking?”  
“Does the hotel actually have a spa?”, Nives inquired.  
“It’s not a hotel, but a small chalet, and it has herb sauna, hammam, and Jacuzzi.”  
Nives’ eyes widened:  
“A chalet??”  
“Yep, I don’t like the idea to go in the chaos of a hotel.”  
That was typical to his reserved character, she guessed.  
“Oh, I’m speechless”, she whispered, “You cannot be aware of it, but I wanted *since forever* to spend New Year’s Eve in a chalet amidst the mountains, under meters of snow, me and my beloved one only.”  
Unexpectedly, Richard made his delicious *adorkable* face.  
“I’m happy if I’m able to realize a dream of yours”, he smiled, “I book it immediately, who knows if they rent it to someone else while we’re talking…”, he fumbled with the keyboard, “Done”, he announced. Evidently he already had been on the website or w-mail of his preferential travel agency and he just needed a click to confirm the booking.  
“Fine…! Did you see Marlise’s service?”, Nives asked, changing subject: the Californian blogger released it the day before.  
“Yeah, I liked it.”  
“Me too… and the comments about our relationship, did you read them?”  
“Certainly, and I’m not surprise most of them were positive about it.”  
She bit her lower lip:  
“But not all of them, this was inevitable”, she murmured, “There is surely a great number of fans of yours that hate me to death…”  
“No”, he interfered, quietly but firmly, “I don’t think so. When they thought I was with Lee, someone told me about some not very nice comments, but the great majority of the comments were favourable even if maybe not enthusiastic. If they were ready to accept an homosexual relationship, they’ll be even readier to accept a relationship with one of them, a *fangirl* as you always call yourself…”  
“Hmmm… maybe it’s exactly the opposite, until they thought you with Lee you were unattainable for all of them, but now that you’re with me, all of them will want to be me and, being this obviously impossible, they’ll hate me…”, her voice trailed off: she was really worried.  
“The Armitage Army has always been very supportive”, Richard observed very placidly, “Of course, there have been and will be some people who’ll express anger and envy, but you’ve already seen by yourself that the majority, after overcoming the initial shock, will congratulate and will be eager to learn more about you, about us, the tiniest details about how we met and fell in love…”  
“Here’s another thing about which I worry: the media exposure… I just hope I won’t find paparazzi at my door or at work!”  
“I don’t think so… that is, except you’ve got false friends who plays the whistleblower and tells the media where you live or work. Are you afraid of this?”  
Nives thought carefully:  
“No, or at least I can’t think of anyone who knows where I live or work who would mess with me like that”, she sighed, “Okay, I admit I didn’t think about all this when I got together with you, but now it’s too late to go back”, she chuckled, “nor I wouldn’t want it, of course. I’d stand anything, just to be with you.”  
He answered her smile with a loving gaze.

  
“Thank you, my sweetest Italian girl… Same here: anything, just to be with you…”  
They chatted a little longer, then, because for Nives it was almost midnight, they said goodbye sending virtual kisses to each other.  
She had some difficulty to fall asleep, still upset by the media tornado which had befallen her. She wasn’t ready for this, she thought, sighing; but, somehow, she had to deal with it. For sure, she would do anything to stay behind the scenes: she never liked to show off and she wouldn’t for certain begin now. She would be at Richard’s side in the few official occasions they could attend together, but it was her firm intention to be seen as little as possible. Not hide, or otherwise she would be taken for a pouter, an antisocial, unpleasant person. She sighed again, frustrated: in any way she would behave, she would receive some disapproval, exactly like Richard. She had to find a way to live with it, at any cost, like he did. But what was she thinking, when she got together with a celebrity..? Then she laughed at herself, with her typical auto-irony: she was never content, eh! Before, because she was alone, now, because she was with a famous person… Actually, she wouldn’t change anything about her current situation: Richard was a dream-man, and she had the inestimable luck to love him and to be reciprocated. Sincerely, what could she possibly want more, in her life? Absolutely nothing, because having him, she really had everything she could want: a dream which had become true…

 

 _Author’s corner:_  
_And so, also this story has come to an end… I hope you liked it. If so, please leave your kudos and, if you like, let me know with a couple of words :-)_  
_Maybe I’ll write some more about Richard and Nives, but this depends on my Muse LOL_  
_Thank you to all those who have read, left kudos and / or commented!_


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